Bejerot's Diagnosis
by AHS
Summary: Love can come from very unexpected places. After the events of the movie, Jackson begins a new life with his former target, but he quickly finds out that civilian life isn't possible for an assassin and that your enemies will always be out for revenge.
1. 27 August 2005

A/N: Here it is, the one that started it all, _Bejerot's Diagnosis_. Enjoy.

---

The world had become... very slow.

He was vaguely aware of his eyes blinking and the blurred vision of Lisa Reisert standing over him. His entire body was numb with pain and his breathing laboured from a mixture of the poorly done cricothyroidostomy and the fact that it felt like the last bullet may have nicked his lung. Although his mind was telling him to reach up and take Lisa's pale neck and squeeze, his body wasn't obeying the order.

'I'm going to die,' he suddenly realised as he began to hear the heavy, hasty footsteps of the paramedics and the police. The world was getting blurrier and his field of vision growing more and more narrow but before his eyes closed, a feeling of absolute relaxation overcame him.

A very startled Lisa looked down at him as his icy eyes closed. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence before she heard him take a shuddering breath. Inexplicably, a tear wove down her face but she quickly reached up and brushed away before she was shoved aside by a paramedic who dropped to his knees beside Jackson and began his work. He was aided by a female paramedic who had just run in with the rest of their supplies. She looked up at Lisa as the male began to do his ABCs on Jackson. After pulling a notebook from her bag, she looked at Lisa expectantly.

'Do you know his name?'

Lisa swallowed. 'He called himself Jackson Rippner, but—'

'R-I-P-P-N-E-R?'

'Yes, I think, but that might not be his real—'

'How old is he?'

'I... I think his identification is in his pocket,' she said, but the woman didn't make a move to look. 'I'd guess he's... 26?'

The woman nodded, scratching down everything she said. 'What happened?'

'Jesus, looks like he's already been ventilated,' her associate said and the female paramedic looked down as he removed the scarf completely. 'Badly.'

The female paramedic raised an eyebrow at Lisa, who was looking at her like a deer caught in the headlights. 'What happened to him?'

'I stabbed him in the throat an hour or so ago, I—I think,' she said, shaking as her father came over and set a hand on her shoulder. 'With a pen, a ballpoint pen. Here, I broke a, uh, vase over his head, stabbed him in the thigh with a heel and… I shot him.'

'Only once,' her father said as the paramedic opened her mouth. 'I'm the one who hit him in the chest.'

The two paramedics, seemingly speechless, simply turned their backs to Lisa as another paramedic led her off to the connecting room. She was sitting in the living room, the paramedic cleaning the cut on her head, when they rolled Jackson out quickly—his neck was stabilised, a tube sticking out of the area where she'd stabbed him with a bag attached to it being pumped by the female paramedic. His pale and slightly bluish torso was exposed with big squares of gauze covering his chest and lower abdomen. The male paramedic was attempting to talk to Jackson, but all that Lisa could see were his lips moving soundlessly. Just as they got him through the door, she saw his eyes open lazily in response to something the paramedic said, but it was apparent that he wasn't anywhere near full consciousness.

'I'd say he's about a nine on the GCS,' she heard the male paramedic say before his voice was covered up by the sound of the LifeFlight landing outside, and then he was gone.

---

A bright light came into Jackson Rippner's field of vision and for one blissful moment, he was convinced that he was actually heading towards Divine Judgment, but then he realised that rather than a pure, white light, it was the piercing, yellowish light of a handheld flashlight. There was a loud thumping noise and what seemed like a slow drawl with a questioning tone. He tried to move his lips but nothing came out.

'_Mrrrarn hgaanrm neachn_onthe GCS,' the voice said and Jackson's eyes suddenly came into focus. A man was standing over him and a woman squeezed a bluish bag that seemed to be connected to his throat, if the pressure was telling him anything.

'Okay, one, two, three,' a person at his feet said and he found himself being lifted closer to the blades of the helicopter then into the body of the vehicle. People swarmed around him; the frequency of thumping increased as the door closed and the helicopter lifted off of the ground. Over the sound of the rotors, he could hear the pilot reporting into the trauma unit on the ground.

'Yes, our ETA is two minutes. We'll need a surgery team standing by—the patient has two gunshots, one to the epigastric region near the subcostal and the other to the right hypochondriac region, almost on the midclavicular.'

The next two minutes were a blur. He could feel pressure here and there as the medics pressed stethoscopes to his chest and jabbed needles in him for blood testing, but his body wasn't responding properly to their pokes and prods. He felt when they landed, but it wasn't until the doctors appeared that he knew he was at the hospital. A team of doctors and nurses descended upon him and the surprise of the moment seemed to jolt his system out of lethargy. All at once, he began struggling for breath, dripping sweat and choking.

The lead doctor noticed all of this and screamed to her team as they all scrambled to move Jackson as comfortably as possible from the helicopter and onto the gurney. He choked and gasped as the collected doctors began wheeling him quickly into the building. 'Let's get him to the OR _now_! I need a sonographic scanner for immediate pericardiocentesis!'

The bright fluorescent lights flashed quickly over his head on the way to the OR. The general surroundings grew colder as his body did the same, and soon he was in the sterile atmosphere of the operating room with an anaesthetist bearing down on him. He could feel the bandages being pulled off of him and was shocked by the pain of having the tube taken from his neck. The wound was cleaned and covered as a nurse explained in low tones what was about to happen, but he didn't hear much because on his left arm, the anaesthetist was inserting an IV and seconds later the Versed took effect.


	2. 2 September 2005

A/N: Nicolina, to answer your question, I'm a _very _geeky nursing student. I haven't even done clinicals yet, but I'm loser enough to sit around thinking about what it would be like, haha. If you happen to see anything I write is incorrect, please don't hesitate to correct me!

And in other news, my kitty Jackson is still hanging in there, not really better, not really worse. Tomorrow he's going to a specialist for a blood transfusion and bone marrow biopsy. We're hoping that the transfusion will help his anaemia (as I've learned that apparently you can't bolster erythrocyte count in cats by increase in iron like you can with humans, dammit). If it does, he might be able to get out of the woods! Please keep him in your thoughts! His appointment with the specialist is at 12:30 CST, so if everyone could just think about him at that time, that would be so wonderful!

---

It was obviously a slow day at the hospital, Lisa noticed as she walked into the waiting room. Only a couple of people were sitting in the uncomfortable-looking chairs and those people looked as though they might be hypochondriacs. After pausing for a moment to be sure no one needed to get to the counter before her, she walked across the tile and set her hands on the surface at the admitting nurse's eye level. Just by looking at her, Lisa could tell she was getting right towards the end of her twelve-hour shift and almost felt bad interrupting her game of computer Solitaire.

'Hello, welcome to Mercy Hospital. How may I help you?' asked the woman, not looking up as she stifled a yawn.

'I'm here to see Jackson Rippner,' she said in a small voice.

'Excuse me? Could you please repeat the name?'

'_Rippner_,' Lisa replied almost too strongly before continuing meekly. 'Jackson Rippner.'

'In that case, you'll need to sign these papers,' the nurse said, pulling a clipboard from a drawer near her knee. At Lisa's raised eyebrow, she continued. 'He's in special therapy after the surgery. And, of course, I'm sure you heard about how he got here. It was all over the news. The police have asked us to keep track of who goes in and out in case he, you know.'

Lisa nodded slowly. The woman had no idea _how_ well she knew about how he got there. She looked down at the clipboard and skimmed it the information on the release forms, tapping the pen on the edge as she read. After signing the papers, she handed the clipboard back to the nurse.

'Okay, miss...' the woman's voice drifted of as she scanned the paper. 'Reisert. The doctor will be out in a moment to take you back.'

Lisa had barely taken three steps when she heard another voice. 'Miss Reisert, I'll take you back now.'

She turned and the doctor smiled at her warmly and walked over, her hand extended. The taller woman had slate-coloured eyes that hid behind rimless glasses; her wavy brown hair was mostly shot through with grey and tied back into a loose bun at the base of her neck. Lisa shook the woman's hand and returned her smile uncomfortably. The doctor turned looked at her clipboard before heading down a hallway that had a sign with 'Hyperbaric Therapy' and an arrow written on it. Lisa strode to catch up to her and the pair started walking down the tiled hallways, their heels tapping in synchrony. Besides the far-off beeping of monitoring equipment, the only sound in the quiet halls of the ICU was their footsteps for a few long moments.

'I'm Elisabeth Millwood, Mr Rippner's regular internist,' the doctor said finally as they turned down a different hallway, following the arrows. 'I'm sure you're aware of the extent his injuries.'

There was silence as Lisa considered what was the best thing to say in this instance. 'I am aware of his injuries but not the secondary conditions caused by them.'

'Ah,' Dr Millwood said, tapping her pen to her chin. 'Honestly, when he first arrived, I didn't think he was going to make it. Usually with multiple injuries such as his, the patient dies from the body's inability to cope with the immense amount of healing necessary.'

'He's a very strong person.'

Dr Millwood raised an eyebrow at the sympathy in her voice. 'He had a concussion, the pen-performed tracheotomy was extremely aggravated, the gunshot wound to the chest lead to a collapsed lung and the gunshot wound to the abdomen nicked his heart and lead to what we call a cardiac tamponade where the sac surrounding the heart fills with fluid, which in turn causes pressure that forces the heart to struggle to beat. Fortunately, the wound on his leg was easy to clean and was recent enough to be uninfected. It's definitely been the easiest thing to deal with.'

The doctor opened a windowless metal door and allowed Lisa to walk in before her. Dr Millwood spoke with the nurse sitting at the desk in the prepping room as Lisa looked around uncomfortably. After a few minutes, the doctor took her arm and they walked into a room filled with hyperbaric chambers and the hissing noise of hyperbaric machinery. Dr Millwood walked over to one of the chambers and looked in, taking notes on a clipboard she had pulled out of a container on the chamber. Lisa stood frozen about ten feet from the chamber until Dr Millwood looked up at her.

'It's all right,' she said with another smile. 'You can come over. The chamber's locked.'

After closing her eyes and mentally preparing herself, Lisa hesitantly walked over and peeked into a window. Jackson laid on a gurney, his eyes closed and his face relaxed under a see-through hood. He wore cotton scrubs pants, but his chest was exposed so that it could receive more oxygen. On the right side, facing her, there was an aggravated hole held closed by medical netting, and just up from it, on the upper part of his chest, there were stitches holding the gunshot wound closed. She craned her head to see his upper abdomen and saw that just below his sternum, there was an about six-inch-long, fresh incision sewn up. One hand flew up to her mouth and the other onto the window as she looked worriedly at the man, almost unconsciously feeling pity for him.

'Have you been to psychotherapy?' Dr Millwood suddenly asked. Lisa's face turned quickly to her, her lips drawn together tightly.

'Why would I need psychotherapy?' she asked harshly to the other woman, who was looking down at her clipboard and writing.

Dr Millwood looked up from the paper very seriously. 'You have signs of Stockholm syndrome, Miss Reisert. You know, it's not often that a victim of psycho-trauma comes to visit her—'

'Leese,' came Jackson's rough, breathy voice over the speakers in the room.

'Jackson,' she murmured as she turned back to look at him.

Her green eyes met his ice blue ones and his face broke into that captivating smile which she couldn't help but reciprocate. His gaze stayed on her until confusion melded into his face and he slowly turned his head back to looking at the top of the chamber as if trying to work out where he was. She could tell by his lethargic movements that he still wasn't in his right mind and was probably just happy to see a familiar face, even if the face was of the person who beat the bejeezus out of him. Her hands scrambled blindly to find the button to speak into the chamber, and after a few seconds, Dr Millwood's hand slipped over hers to press a button.

'Jackson,' she repeated over the speaker system. 'How are you?'

He gave her a dry look that answered her question before changing the subject. 'Conviction?'

Lisa swallowed, 'Extortion, assault and battery.'

Jackson nodded slightly.

'It's up to me whether or not assault and battery is brought against you.'

He frowned as she knit her eyebrows and started to cry. Although he'd seen her cry many times before, for whatever reason, this time actually made him feel a knot in his throat. It took a few moments to realise that she wasn't crying because of his former actions but in pity for him. He also realised that this had to be the pressure messing with his mind, because why would she even want to see his face? She opened her mouth to speak and her lips began moving, but her voice didn't come over the speaker. A moment passed and her face disappeared from the window.

'What are you doing?' Dr Millwood said, taking Lisa's hand off of the button and pulling the shorter woman towards her. 'Do you not realise what's going on here? It is only because of the trauma you went through with him—because of him—that you have any feeling at all towards him! You can't your emotions control you like this. Be more logical.'

'Emotions have taken me this far and I don't intend to stop using them now,' Lisa said sharply. 'I have control over this situation, and my decision in this instance is to drop my side of the charges.'

'He tried to kill your father and the Deputy Director of Homeland Security.'

'It would be an absolute waste to have him rot away in a prison cell!' replied Lisa loudly, pointing in at Jackson as she spoke. 'He is amazingly intelligent and could be used for much better purposes than the ones he's pursued in the past!'

She ripped her hand from Dr Millwood's and pressed the button on the chamber again. Looking into his once again emotionless face, she spoke.

'I'll come back again when more things are worked out.'

'Good-bye, Leese,' he said as she walked out of the room, leaving Dr Millwood and breezing by the nurse, who was now walking in to start the process of removing Jackson from the hyperbaric chamber.

---

'You visited him at the hospital.'

Setting down her fork and taking her time chewing, Lisa stared at her father from across the table. He sat with a utensil in each hand, his dinner untouched, his look unreadable. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, curling her toes on the floor as she swallowed. After taking a drink of her wine, she thought and spoke.

'What do you mean?'

'What do I _mean_?' he asked, raising his voice a bit with tension. 'When I called your cell phone yesterday, Cynthia answered and told me that you had stepped out to go visit a friend down near Coconut Grove.'

'Perhaps I have a friend in Coconut Grove.'

'I know that Jackson is being treated at Mercy Hospital in Coconut Grove, Lisa.'

Biting her lip, she hastily covered her face with the wine glass again. She took a sip. 'What does it matter if I went to see him, Dad?'

Her father set down his utensils and pushed up his glasses. 'The DA was here the last night and he said that you hadn't pressed the assault and battery charges on Rippner. You have to realise that he's a very dangerous man, and you can't tempt him like this. He took you hostage, more or less, bruised you up by throwing you down the stairs...'

'Dad...'

'Lisa, you know I worry about you,' Joe sighed heavily before crossing his arms and leaning on the table. 'The DA also told me that you fought with Jackson's doctor about getting therapy. You have to realise that for all of us, it looks like you're having a case of Stockholm syndrome. This man tries to kill you, the Keefe family, me... and then you're wanting him excused of all charges? I don't understand what you're getting at here, honey.'

'I can't explain it,' she said quietly, looking at her father, who hand a hand over his mouth and chin. 'I know that I have control over this and what happens to him, and I just don't want that on my hands. I don't want to have someone knowing that for every moment that he's in jail, it's my fault he's there. That's how you create things like revenge and hate, and I don't want him to hate me.'

'I guess you wouldn't want someone that insane hating you.'

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. 'I don't want him to hate me because...'

'I don't want you to get hurt,' her father said, concern written plainly on his face. 'Any feelings that you have for him... they aren't real, honey. He's not a normal person. He could lie to you through his tee—'

He stopped as she gripped her glass too tightly and it broke, the red wine spilling on the table and dripping off the side. 'Jackson never lies.'

There was very awkward silence between the two in which all that could be heard was the clock ticking and the rhythmic dripping of the wine onto the hardwood. Lisa took her hand and wrapped it in her napkin, the blood quickly making it through the cloth. When she started trying to pick up the glass, her father stood and came over to her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her in close to him.

'I should hate him, I should hate him so much,' Lisa said, tears running down her face. 'But instead, I feel _sorry _for him. I hate to see him hurt so badly. And when I look into his eyes, I see a different person than everyone else does. The raw honesty in his look... God! I sound so stupid!'

'It's never been your way to be logical,' her father said, still holding her tightly. 'You just think with your heart, and most of the time, that's what ends up helping you the most.'

'My heart almost got you and the Keefe family killed.'

'Your heart lead you to attack your captor and save the day,' he said, pulling away to look into her face. 'Now come on, let's get your hand cleaned up and we'll talk.'

Her father disappeared from her field of vision and she heard him looking under the sink for the first-aid kit. As she blotted at her bleeding hand, she stared at the broken glass and her shattered reflection in it. The dripping slowed as her father's footsteps came back, and she looked up into his smiling face as he held up some gauze and athletic wrap with a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. He bent down on his knees and took her hand, dousing it in the hydrogen peroxide before dabbing at the cut with one of the squares of gauze.

'You know you can tell me anything, Leese,' he said, carefully cleaning the wound.

'Always,' she said, relaxing. 'When I first met Jackson, he was great. I was really comfortable around him, you know? Of course, that feeling evaporated once everything started happening, but then he cornered me in the bathroom.'

Her father raised his eyebrows at that, but said nothing as he put the other square of gauze on her palm and held it down.

'When we were in there, he found my scar. The way he brushed it, the tone in his voice when he asked me about it, even the pitied look that he gave me... it all felt real. It felt like he wanted to protect me,' she laughed a little. 'Of course, after he did that, he took me by the neck and shoved me into a wall, so...'

'He was probably trying to cover his moment of weakness with a big show of masculinity.'

Lisa chuckled a bit. 'I see those little things. His sympathy for me because of the scar, the moment of delay after I told him that he didn't have to do his job, and then the concern on his face after he pushed me down the stairs.'

'I think he's as conflicted as you are,' Joe said, wrapping the athletic tape around her hand. 'You need to be careful about this though, Leese. Don't be brash, okay? You're under a lot of stress now and I don't think you should make any really important decisions. You know I'd really appreciate it if you went to see a psychologist about this, but I won't force you.'

'I know, Dad,' she said, biting her lip. 'But you just need to trust me on this one.'


	3. 4 September 2005

A/N: Uhn, I have to sing at church today. Pie Jesu. (pee-ay yeh-sue, not pai gee-sue)

Jackson took the transfusion very well, so now we're just waiting for the results of his bone marrow biopsy. He threw up all of his medication last night, which made me cry, but it's antibiotics, so it always had the chance of upsetting his stomach. Despite our best efforts, I don't know how much time we'll have left with him, especially if the biopsy comes back with results we don't want to see. Please continue to keep Jackson in your thoughts and prayers.

---

By the time three-thirty rolled around, Lisa was on her last nerve. Cynthia was running a half-hour late because of a terrible traffic accident on the Interstate, the housekeepers hadn't cleaned to the 26th floor suite that had been trashed by a bachelor party the night before and was needed for a honeymooning couple by four o'clock, the computer system had wiped out all reservations made during a four-day period six months earlier, and she couldn't get the conversation she had with her dad the night before out of her mind. She had to take sleeping pills to get her meagre four hours and her fatigue was aggravated by the fact that Jackson was at the back of her mind, constantly nagging her as she went about her day-to-day grind.

The flurried tapping of high heels across the lobby snapped her out of her daze and before Cynthia even made it to where Lisa could see her, Lisa had shoved all of her things into her purse and was already walking to the door. Cynthia grabbed her arm and looked at her with her normal, wide-eyed gaze.

'Sorry I'm late, Lisa! There was a crash on the—'

'Interstate, I know. Hey, I'll see you tomorrow, okay? I need to get down to the hospital.'

'Oh, Lisa, no. Not again,' Cynthia said with a fallen look on her face, releasing her grip on her manager's forearm. 'You really shouldn't visit him, he's a hardened criminal!'

'Cynthia, really, I'm fine,' she said with aggravation. 'But really, I need to head down to Coconut Grove before the traffic gets even worse.'

The redhead looked beaten and just walked over to the desk. 'Be careful.'

---

Today the hospital was much busier. People sat around the waiting room, some bleeding from gashes on their faces, moaning as they rubbed their necks, or being talked to by interns who were making sure that the patients' concussions weren't encroaching on level two. Despite all of the activity, Lisa strode straight to the counter and looked at the nurse, who happened to be the same one who was on duty the first time she visited.

'I'm here to see Jackson Rippner,' she said over the general buzz. The woman handed her the clipboard without a word and she signed it.

'He's been moved to a private room, Ms Reisert,' the nurse said, pointing down the hallway. 'His is the one with the security guard sitting outside, number 218.'

'Thanks.'

Lisa made her way down the hallway, going the opposite direction as last time. People kept brushing past her on the way from door to door, and when she had almost reached the door with the security guard, a gurney was rolled by with a cloth-draped body atop it. It was then that the odours of the hospital became sharper and she could suddenly smell the horrible sting of anti-bacterial, latex gloves and used needles. She had her hand on the doorknob before the security guard grabbed it and gave her a dark look.

'I need to see some identification before you can enter this room.'

'Um, yeah, of course,' she said, digging through her bag to find her driver's license. She held it up to him and he took the information down.

'Thank you, Ms Reisert.'

She pushed open the door and walked into the dark room. The blinds were drawn, letting in only a little bit of the afternoon sun, and once she closed the door, she had to let her eyes readjust. Once they did, she walked forward and towards Jackson's sleeping form. Although heartened by his strong and steady EKG reading, it wasn't until she touched his warm arm that she let her breathing go back to normal. Without letting go of his arm, she sat down in the chair beside his bed, looking at his facial profile in the dim light and tracing from his long eyelashes down to his luscious lips. The bruises on his face had started to yellow on the edges and he seemed to be breathing fine with just the nasal cannula. Her hand dropped to hold his hand, which had a pulse oximeter attached to the finger, glowing red.

'Why did you let me see that side of you?' she asked softly as she rubbed her fingers on his. 'I don't understand you, Jackson, how you could be so kind _and_ horrible? You never lie, and your eyes never lie. They show coldness but not hate.'

Jackson moaned a bit in his sleep and she tightened her grip as his face tensed and then relaxed again. His heartbeat quickened for a moment, but the moment was so fleeting, Lisa couldn't do much more than stand. His head turned to the side and back, his stubble scratching on the starched pillowcase. The movement made his hair fall into his face, so she reached over to brush it away, but once she touched his forehead, his eyes flew open and his other arm grabbed her wrist; it was apparent he had been awake since before she came in. She stayed completely still, her curls just brushing his face.

'Hey, it's okay, it's just me,' she said in a strained voice, not knowing what else to say, but his grip didn't loosen. 'Jackson, come on...'

'What is this?' he asked, his voice a little less gruff than when they last spoke. 'Why are you here?'

'Because you have no one else to care for you,' replied Lisa through clenched teeth, struggling to loosen his grip as he squeezed her wrist harder.

He let out what once would have been a relatively mirthful laugh, but it sounded rather like an old man with emphysema. 'Care for me?'

She narrowed her eyes at him as she backed up, his hand still attached to her wrist. 'Be careful or you'll pull your IV out.'

Jackson gave her an uncomfortable half-smile when she slipped her hand out of his grasp and immediately reached down to close it harshly around the back of his own, jarring around the vein into which the soft catheter had been inserted. 'Cute, Leese, but despite your attack prowess, I don't think you're set up to be a solicitor like myself.'

Looking coldly at him, she released his hand, set it on his abdomen and sat back down in the chair, still holding the hand with the pulse ox on it. 'And why is that?'

'You have too many emotions,' he said, shifting in the bed. Lisa heard a soft metallic sound that let her know that Jackson's ankles were handcuffed to the footboard. 'Emotions never get you anywhere. You said it yourself: had I remained logical, I wouldn't be in this bed right now. I'd have cut my losses and disappeared into the woodwork. But rather, I let my need for revenge overcome me, and that is precisely why I'm going to spend time in a federal prison.'

'You're a good man. They may be lenient.'

'You're ludicrous. Dr Millwood wasn't lying when she told me you'd gone mad.'

'Dr Millwood told _you_—'

'She thought I was asleep when she got a phone call,' he said with a wink. She straightened. 'But she's right, isn't she? I guess having all that stress all at once really did your mind in.'

'Shut up, Jackson.'

'Do you even know the disorder you're supposed to have?' Jackson asked in an indulging voice, raising his eyebrows.

'The Stockholm syndrome,' she spat.

'Do you know the phases of onset?' he asked, tipping his head towards her. At her silence, he continued. 'It starts when the victim determines the abuser is a threat. In your case, when I showed you your father's wallet. The next stage is the victim perceiving kindness from the abuser. Did you just hold on to the image I projected in the airport?'

Lisa looked at him darkly, causing him to smile grimly.

'I suppose. The third phase is isolation from others. Despite your numerous attempts at communicating with other passengers—well, I did a pretty decent job on that one, didn't I? And the last stage goes hand-in-hand with that, and that's the non-perception of an escape.'

'But I _did _find an escape,' Lisa responded, pushing herself to the edge of the chair. 'I got away from you.'

'Just to come right back,' said Jackson with the coldest smile he had ever given her.

Bile rose in her throat with those words. She dropped his hand and he immediately brought it up to sit with the other one on his abdomen, the self-gratifying look still covering his face. Sinking against the seat back, her face broadcast a mixture of pure hate and determination.

'Don't think of yourself so highly, Jackson. I come here of my own volition, not because of some falsely created relationship between the two of us, some... traumatic bonding.'

He made an approving noise and rounded his eyebrows. 'So you _do_ know more than you confess to. I suppose you think that because you retaliated and released your rage, you can deny your symptoms?'

'A patient of the syndrome suppresses all rage towards the abuser out of self-preservation, and it's obvious that I don't need to be protected by you,' she said with a smirk.

Reaching out a bit, he brushed the side of her face softly. Immediately, her cheeks flushed and she sat perfectly still as his fingers ran over her skin. 'You find it hard to leave me, don't you? You worry about me.'

'I do,' she said in a dreamy voice but, as she realised what she just said, she snapped out of it and turned her head the other direction. He began to laugh again and she ground her teeth together before snapping her head back at him. 'What do you want me to say? That you had no effect on me?'

'Everyone always hopes they affect someone,' he said, curling her hair around one of his fingers. 'But they're never sure what that effect will be.'

'You're not as sadistic as you like to think you are.'

'I'd have to argue that point,' he said with an honest smile. 'Sadism is one of the few things I very much enjoy.'

She stared blankly at him before light spilled into the room.

'Your time's up, Miss Reisert,' said the security guard as a nurse walked in and over to Jackson's catheter, adding the contents of a syringe to the fluids constantly pumping through the IV. 'You'll have to come back another time.'

When Lisa turned back to look at Jackson, he looked straight into her eyes. There was something unreadable about his look, and Lisa had the feeling that the syringe the nurse had just emptied was morphine. She stood and he took her hand as she tried to walk away. When she looked down with knit eyebrows, he pulled her hand closer to his mouth and kissed her lightly on the knuckles before his grip went lax and his eyes closed. After laying down his hand lightly next to him, she turned and left the room.


	4. 7 September 2005

A few nights later, Lisa was experiencing yet another bout of genetic insomnia. She sat in the living room of her apartment curled up on one end of the couch in the dark with just the TV flashing multi-coloured light on her surroundings. Every now and then, she'd take a bite of the tepid scrambled eggs in the bowl she had held between her hands, but the movement was very much an afterthought. Although she seemed interested in the infomercial, really she had no idea what was even being sold because, like every night recently, her mind was caught on Jackson and the gossamer kiss he'd laid upon her hand.

Well, that and she wondered whom Dr Millwood had been talking to on the phone.

Knitting her brow, Lisa took another bite of the scrambled eggs and chewed slowly. She had a sneaking suspicion that there was a conspiracy in the works that was going to be used against her when the case came to court and it made her _very_ uncomfortable. There were so many people that Millwood could have been talking to, and the more she thought about it, the more paranoid she became. She had purposefully changed her schedule so that she wouldn't have to overlap her time with Cynthia and had even started to ignore some of her dad's phone calls, which of course just made him call more.

She jumped and dropped her fork when her mobile rang. Staring at the caller ID, she sighed and answered.

'I was just thinking about you.'

'Hi honey. I figured that you couldn't sleep either,' her dad's voice replied over the connection. 'I just wanted to catch up with you since we haven't seen each other for almost a week.'

'It's been four days, Dad,' she said with laughter in her voice. 'You need to stop worrying so much, I'm fine.'

'You know I'm always going to worry about you, Leese. The curse of the only child.'

She smiled. 'I love you, Dad.'

'I love you too, honey,' he said, his voice a little more relieved. 'And that's why I worry.'

'I know, Dad, I know.'

'How is Jackson doing?' he asked.

Lisa paused, narrowing her eyes as she threw her legs over the side of the couch and ran her feet in the Flokati that was pinned down by the coffee table. 'He's doing... fine. Hey Dad, how did you know I'd gone to visit him again?'

There was a moment of silence. 'Intuition.'

She nodded with her lips parted slightly and her brow furrowed. 'Ah. Have you been talking to Dr Millwood?'

More silence permeated the wireless connection followed by a deep sigh. 'Lisa, everyone's worried about your mental health and seeing Jackson isn't helping things. We don't want to stop you from seeing him, but it might come to...'

His voice drifted off and Lisa found herself with a very sudden, very piercing headache. She put a hand on her temple and closed her eyes. 'Dad, I trusted you.'

She could almost hear his heart break over the phone. 'Honey, I didn't want to go behind your back, but sometimes we have to do things that we know will hurt the people we love for a short time so that we know they'll be better in the long run. You've gone through a lot, and it might be a good idea to get away for awhile, maybe... under supervision.'

Lisa's mouth dropped open and her eyes grew wide. 'Are... are you suggesting that I be _institutionalised_?'

'It's just... something to take into consideration.'

'Of course,' she said, her voice strained. 'Goodnight, Dad.'

'Goodnight, Leese. Remember, I love you.'

'I love you too, Dad,' she replied before pressing the end button on her cell phone.

She dropped her cell phone onto the cushion beside her and sat looking blankly at the television. Rather than crying, however, she just fluffed the pillow, kicked her phone onto the Flokati and curled up with her back to the television. After pulling the blanket from the back of the couch and throwing it over herself, she felt for the remote and turned the TV off, leaving the room in darkness. The clock ticked and the aquarium gurgled a bit, but as she thought more about her Dad's proposition, her mind dulled and she eventually drifted off to sleep.

---

'Good morning, Lizzy.'

'Good morning, Jack. How are you today?' the tall doctor asked, pulling Jackson's chart from the container at the foot of the bed.

'I'm feeling wonderful, thank you,' he said smoothly in response. 'Even better now that you're here.'

Rolling her eyes, Dr Millwood scribbled something on Jackson's chart before looking up at him. 'Sucking up to me isn't going to help your cause at all.'

Jackson pouted at her before shifting in his bed to sit up straighter as she came around and started checking the machinery attached to him. He watched her movements carefully as she punched buttons and copied information down from the heart monitor. As she came around to look at his IV drip, his eyes followed her. After writing down something else on the chart, she looked at him, aggravated.

'What is it, Jackson?' she asked as she set down the chart on his legs and started to remove the catheter from his hand as he continued staring at her coldly.

She palpated his hand to find another vein and then pulled a catheter from her lab-coat. After performing venipuncture, she watched the flash chamber on the catheter before lowering the angle of the object and inserting the needle a bit more. She threaded the catheter into the vein before slipping the needle out, reattaching the tubing and walking over to dispose of the outer shell of the catheter in the sharps container on the wall. Going to his IV stand, she adjusted the rate of drip and then looked back at him with a cold smile before taping down the catheter a bit forcefully.

'Looks as though you're set for another day, Mr Rippner,' she said before pulling another needle out of her labcoat. Jackson glared at her as she tapped the needle and squirted a bit from the tip. 'Now, now, are you not happy to be getting so much good sleep? It's safer for everyone if you stay where you are and don't try to escape, we all know that. It's especially good for Ms Reisert.'

Jackson watched as she inserted the syringe into the port on his catheter hub and within a minute began feeling the Ativan take effect. He heard her walk away, dropping his chart into the holder before discarding the syringe in the biohazard refuse bin hanging on the wall. Despite his attempts to thwart the medication pumping through his veins, he found his eyes closing and he slowly slipped into absolute unconsciousness.

---

Lisa awoke with a start, nearly falling off of the couch. Her cat, who _had_ been asleep on her feet, gave her the evil eye before stretching and stalking off to beg for breakfast. With a sleepy smile, she rubbed her eyes and got up to follow the cat into the kitchen, carrying the mostly-empty bowl from the night before to set in the sink and ignore. Before she made it through the door, however, she heard the sound of Alfie's food bowl being filled and she immediately froze. Scanning around her, she grabbed an umbrella that was hanging from a hook near the front door and then hazarded a peek in the door but the counter blocked her view. She swallowed deeply and then went in, the umbrella held like a bat.

As she turned the corner, she saw the person bent down scratching Alfie's head. Raising an eyebrow, she let down her guard.

'Mom?'

The woman looked up at Lisa. 'Hi sweetheart. I let myself in, I'm sorry.'

'Jesus mom, you scared me,' she said as she set the umbrella on the counter. 'What are you doing here?'

'Your father called me,' her mom said, standing up and almost laughing at Lisa's confused expression. 'We've been talking since the incident.'

'Well, at least you're on speaking terms again,' Lisa said lightly as she picked at the corner of the counter. 'Even if it did take me nearly being killed for it to happen.'

'Come here,' her mom said, extending her arms and taking Lisa into them for a hug, rubbing her daughter's hair as she embraced her.

Lisa was more than a bit uncomfortable as her mom held her. All through her life, she'd always been closer to her father and sometimes her mother's random displays of affection threw her off. She let herself melt a little so as not to appear cold, but she was more interested in business than her mother's affection.

'Really mom, why are you here?' she asked against her mom's shoulder.

'Your dad thought we should all be together to support you,' she said, pulling Lisa closer. Lisa wiggled against her. 'We're going to work together to help you get better.'

Lisa broke away from her mother's grip and raised her hand to her chest. 'I'm your daughter, not one of your patients!'

'_Shhh_,' her mom said, reaching out to rub Lisa's upper arm. 'Why don't we go into the living room and talk about what's on your mind.'

'No,' Lisa growled, freezing to her mother's touch. 'There's _nothing_ wrong with me that I can't work out myself; you need to realise that! I know when I have problems, and I can find help when I need it! Stop forcing me to seek help, because it never works!'

Her mother gave her a pitying look that twisted Lisa's stomach in knots. 'Lisa, this Jackson boy may have been more sympathetic to your feelings than the man who raped you but that doesn't mean that he's going to be the only positive relationship in your life.'

Lisa gaped. 'Why doesn't anyone believe that he has another side?'

'You're rationalising the violence he performed against you and focusing more on his needs than your own,' her mother said professionally, as though reading snippets from a psychology textbook. 'Your father told me about the conflicted feelings that you have for Jackson.'

'Mom, stop it,' Lisa said, reaching up to run her fingers through her hair and massage her temples.

'Patients with the Stockholm syndrome are known to have both absolute love and hate for their abusers.'

'Mom—'

'They're grateful for any kindness displayed by the abuser, find it hard to leave him…'

'Mom—'

'It's all right to let go now, Lisa. He's not going to hurt you anymore; you don't have to worry about him retaliating. It's over. You need to take some time off to collect your thoughts in a place where you'll be safe and won't have to worry.'

'_Mom_!'

Lisa's mother finally snapped out of her psychiatrist retinue to look at her daughter, whose face was red and her nose scrunched up with barely contained rage. She dropped her hand from her daughter's arm and, flustered, turned to grab a Kleenex from the dispenser on the counter. She reached out to dab at the tears falling down Lisa's face, but Lisa just snatched the tissue from her and crumpled it in her hand.

'Mom, I think it'd be a good idea for you to leave,' she said, her voice measured. 'Thank you for visiting.'

'Lisa...'

'Thank you...' she said, stepping aside so there was a clear shot between her mom and the kitchen door. '... for visiting.'

Lisa's mom closed her mouth and walked out to the living room followed by her daughter. The older woman put on her coat and took the keys for her rental car out of the pocket. She looked into her daughter's eyes, which were identical to hers, and sighed before leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek. Lisa pursed her lips as she looked at her mother.

'Please think about it,' her mom said in a half-voice as she opened the door. 'We just want what's best for you.'

After her mother had stepped through the door, Lisa slammed the door shut.


	5. 9 September 2005

The clock clicked over to ten o'clock as Lisa put her driver's license away and stepped into Jackson's room. The nurse who stood by Jackson's bed had opened the blinds all the way so that morning sunlight came strongly through the window and bounced around the white room. After writing something down, the nurse looked up at Lisa and smiled lightly.

'Hello, ma'am,' she said with a Southern drawl.

'Hello,' Lisa replied with a distracted tone as she looked at Jackson. 'What... what's wrong with him?'

The nurse looked down at him. 'Well, he was shot—'

'No, I know about his injuries, but I was here a few days ago and he just looked... _better_.'

The two women looked quietly at Jackson. He was pale, the stubble on his chin even more noticeable against his pallid skin. His thick eyelashes were still against dark circles under his eyes and his high cheekbones were even more pronounced because his cheeks seemed slightly sunken in. His breaths seemed more laboured and his heartbeat a bit slow. Lisa took a few steps toward him and picked up a hand, surprised at the coldness of it.

'Does he not look bad to you?' she asked, looking up at the nurse, who shrugged.

'He's had a lot happen to him,' the nurse replied, finishing the paperwork and putting the clipboard back. 'Besides, Dr Millwood has kept him on Ativan.'

'Ativan?' Lisa repeated, trying to think of where she'd heard the drug's name before. 'No, why would she use Ativan? He's not being treated for anxiety disorder.'

The nurse shook her head. 'Ativan is also used when a patient becomes agitated and needs to be sedated for long periods of time.'

'Jackson wouldn't be agitated without a good reason.'

'Well, I think a good reason is being chained to a bed with a bunch of holes in you, don't ya think?'

With that, the nurse stepped out of the room and Lisa was left looking down at Jackson. She waited for him to open his eyes, hoping that he was just pretending to sleep again, but he stayed completely still, even when she reached over and pressed her hand to his forehead. Worried, Lisa let go of his hand and paced at the foot of his bed before going around to the side where his IV was. Hesitantly, she reached down and pinched the corner of the tape holding the catheter into his hand and ripped it off.

The next minute was a blur of motion over Jackson Rippner's body. After using a bobby pin to open the locks on the handcuffs around his ankles, Lisa pulled off every piece of equipment that was attached to him: the catheter that went into his hand; the electrodes that led from his chest, arms and legs to the cardiac monitor; the pulse ox attached to his left index finger; and the nasal cannula that was giving him a steady stream of pure oxygen. She paused for a moment before ripping the sheets completely off of the bed and feeling to make sure nothing else was connected to him. By that time, however, the nurses' station had received the alarm from the cardiac monitor that Jackson had flat-lined.

Lisa's head snapped up as the door opened and a man in a lab coat walked in with the security guard. Seeing Lisa standing in a puddle of IV fluid and looking like a deer in the headlights, he put his hands up.

'Okay, ma'am... step back from him.'

Slowly, Lisa shook her head, moving closer to Jackson's bed before putting her arms around his sleeping form. When the doctor took a couple of steps towards her, she tried to drag Jackson off the bed and the security guard put his hand on his gun. The doctor ran over beside Jackson's bed and pushed the nurse call button frantically as Lisa managed to drag the dead weight of Jackson from the bed but then collapsed under the combination of his weight and slipping on the wet floor. When she heard the sound of hasty footsteps coming down the hallway, she started screaming and holding Jackson close to her.

'No! She's trying to kill him!' she sobbed, pulling herself up and reclining Jackson against her with her arms under his to support him. His head lolled on her shoulder. 'He can't stay here! She's going to kill him!'

By this point, three nurses and an intern had shown up, but all seemed helpless and just ended up keeping Lisa contained to the corner that she was in with Jackson. Whenever someone would come too close, Lisa would scream louder and try to pull him even closer to her. After a few minutes, the pleads from the staff for Lisa to calm down stopped and the group parted to allow Dr Millwood to come closer to Lisa.

'Lisa,' Dr Millwood said patronisingly. 'Come on now, you're going to hurt Jackson.'

'No!' she screamed, looking around frantically at the other medical personnel. 'It's her! She's trying to overdose him with Ativan!'

Dr Millwood shook her head and whispered something to the intern, who left the room. All of the nurses and the other doctor formed a tight perimeter around Lisa and the still-sleeping Jackson; as soon as the intern came back with two syringes, one which Dr Millwood handed to the other doctor, Lisa's eyes widened as she realised what was going on. Splaying out her legs, she kicked the IV stand in Dr Millwood's direction.

'What are you doing?!' she screamed, trying to scramble backwards into the wall even more without letting go of Jackson. 'No! No, you can't do that! Get away!'

'You're going to hurt him. You're a threat to him and a threat to all of us,' said Dr Millwood as she prepped the needle for injection. 'Now, you can make this easy or you can make it hard. Come on, Lisa.'

'Don't touch me!' she shrieked, burying her face in Jackson's hair.

The doctors chose this moment to descend on Lisa, using the weight of the man on top of her to their advantage. With the help of the intern and a nurse, they pinned her down under Jackson, rubbed her arm with a sterile pad and then each put a syringe in her arm, emptying the contents whilst keeping her arm still. Once the deed was done, they held her down until her thrashing slowed. All of them backed away and watched as her movements stopped and she was left lying on the floor, one arm and part of her torso still under Jackson, his head pressed against the side of her own.

Dr Millwood looked down at the two of them, still breathing hard from the effort of holding the feisty woman at bay. She handed the empty syringe to the other doctor and he walked over to put it in the refuse bin as Dr Millwood looked at the crowd around her.

'Let's get them up,' she said in an exhausted voice. 'Put Rippner back into his own bed and get all of his monitors and the IV set up again. Wheel the gurney from the hallway into here and put her into it. We'll decide what to do with her when her parents get here.'

The group nodded and began the task of moving the two.

---

Jackson awoke in a daze a half-hour later. His entire body ached, but it wasn't the normal ache that he'd become accustomed to during his stay. Scrunching his face, he tried to right himself in the bed, but he lacked the energy to do so, so he just lay there listening to the cardiac monitor. As he listened closely however, he became aware of another person's breathing. Lazily, he turned his head to look to his left and was surprised to see another bed beside his own and even more surprised to see a very conked-out Lisa Reisert occupying it.

'Leese?' he questioned with a sleep-laden voice.

He heard someone at the door and immediately closed his eyes. When the false light from the hallway came in, so did the sound of three people. Two women and a man, he could tell, if the shoes weren't lying. He stayed perfectly still as the people moved around to Lisa's bed, and when they started talking, he was relieved to realise that Dr Millwood had her back to him.

'She'll be out for at least another few hours.'

'What did you give her?' a woman's voice asked.

'Lorazepam and haloperidol.'

'Oh, she's so small... did you really need to do that? I can't see her as dangerous.'

'You weren't at my house when she was defending herself against Rippner,' a voice Jackson recognised as Lisa's father's said. 'If she gets enough adrenaline in her, she's very strong. You saw her field hockey games in college.'

The woman sighed in response. 'What did she do that you needed to sedate her like that?'

'She disconnected all of Rippner's monitoring equipment and his IV and when she was confronted about it, she pulled him off of the bed and drug him to the corner with her. She was going completely psychotic and screaming about me trying to kill Jackson.'

Well, at least that explained why his ass hurt so much.

'Tell me, have you thought about placing her in a care facility?' Dr Millwood prodded.

He could hear Lisa's father sighing, but it was the woman with him who answered. 'Yes, both of us have, but she keeps denying that she's suffering from Stockholm syndrome and insists that her feelings for Jackson are completely real and natural, not something caused by traumatic bonding.'

'Dr Bellamy, you have to realise as a psychiatric professional that sometimes force is the best display of love. I don't think that you can let Lisa keep living like this. Perhaps you could come to my office and we could discuss options...'

'Yes, I think that would be a good idea,' the woman who was apparently Lisa's mother replied. 'Come on, Joe.'

'I'll be along in a moment. You two go ahead.'

One pair of feet started walking away. 'Dr Millwood, it's all right. She's daddy's little girl—he just needs some time with her. We can discuss things without him.'

There was hesitation on Dr Millwood's part before she finally started walking away, and when he heard the door close, Jackson opened his eyes. Joe Reisert stood next to Lisa's bed brushing the hair out of her face as he looked down upon her solemnly.

'Leese, honey...' he murmured to her as he ran his hand over her head. 'I'm so sorry I didn't do enough to help this from happening.'

Jackson watched as Joe dropped his face down to kiss Lisa lightly on the forehead before taking her shoes off, setting them beside the bed and pulling the sheets out from under her to cover her. After touching her cheek and smiling a bit, he focused his attention on Jackson. He said nothing, but his face remained rocky as they stared at each other before Joe turned and walked out of the room. After he left, Jackson looked at the closed door before turning his gaze on Lisa.

---

'... but I really think that would be the best place for her, Carol,' finished Dr Millwood as Joe walked through the door.

'Where would be the best place for her?' Joe asked, taking a seat next to his ex-wife.

'That's really far away,' Carol replied, shifting in her seat. 'I don't think we want to send her so far away from everything she knows.'

'If she goes to that psychiatric hospital, she'll be far away from her abuser.'

'Where?'

Carol turned to her ex-husband. 'She wants us to send Lisa to a hospital in Vermont.'

'No, we're not sending her out of the Miami area,' said Joe harshly, giving Dr Millwood a dirty look. 'There's a psychiatric ward here; why can't we just admit her here?'

Dr Millwood was silent, looking at the two of them over her large mahogany desk. She looked especially strict, her lips drawn tightly. Lisa's parents, however, returned hate with the same voracity.

'I know this area, and I think this will be a great place for Lisa because it's so close to her father's house,' said Lisa's mother, looking between Dr Millwood and her ex-husband. 'I think I can take care of referral.'

'I don't think we're set up to deal with a patient like Lisa,' Dr Millwood countered, crossing her arms. 'Especially not when the object of her desire is in the same building as she is.'

'"Object of her desire"?' Joe repeated. 'I don't think Leese's problem is desire.'

'She has an extended dependence on him,' Carol reasoned. 'It's more cognitive dissonance than anything else. She knows what he did was wrong, but she's finding ways to explain his behaviour. She's investing herself in him and identifying herself only through him. It explains how she acted this morning. If she's convinced that someone's trying to take him from her, and at the same time thinks that she can't live without him—'

'If you don't get her away from him, she's going to self-destruct.'

'No, that's not going to help,' Carol said, putting her hand on her chin and looking at the floor. 'If we take her far away, she's just going be defensive and we'll lose her.'

'I don't think that mindset can be applied in this case,' Joe broke in. 'He's not telling her to stay away from family and friends; she decided to do that on her own.'

Carol looked at her ex-husband. 'But whenever anyone brings up the topic with her, she grows incredibly defensive. I feel like we're going to lose her over this.'

'We're going to lose her if we try to control her,' he said, his voice strained. 'I think we just need to be with her, not leave her off to someone else. This condition isn't improved by isolation from family and friends. And as much as I hate to admit it,' he grinned. 'I think he's less of a threat to her than she is to him.'

---

Thunder came before any lightning was seen. It shook the windows of Jackson's room and made the fluid in his new IV bag quiver. He looked up at it and watched the ripples dance across the surface with a little smile. In a few seconds, rain started pounding against the window and the lightning finally flashed in the room. Jackson leaned back into his pillow and took a cleansing breath as he listened to the sound of the storm outside. For whatever reason, he found himself thinking about the storm in Dallas when he first met Lisa, and the second his mind latched onto the thought, he heard movement from Lisa's bed. He rolled his head over to look at her as she sluggishly began moving and looked about slowly with obviously no idea where she was.

'Incredible odds, Leese,' he said to her, barely audible over the sound of the intensifying storm outside. 'Only eight percent of people who have been in abusive or hostage situations end up developing Stockholm syndrome. And if you add the people who just have hatred towards the authority for the pace of negotiations and no loyalty towards the abuser, that number sinks to five percent.'

Lisa moaned and brought her hand up to her head.

'I'm impressed, honestly. You're a real trophy.'

She closed her eyes and looked as though she was trying to remember how she got into a hospital bed. All of the sudden, she sat up and looked over at Jackson.

'Jackson, she's trying to kill you. Dr Millwood is trying to kill you.'

He smiled. 'Don't you think I know that?'

She gave him a confused look and then slowly laid back on her bed, keeping her eyes trained on him. 'If you know, why don't you tell someone?'

'Things aren't that easy, Leese,' he said, propping himself up and looking at her with hollow eyes. 'You know my job and you know that in order to keep the gears running, you have to have connections.'

'What are you saying?' she asked, flipping her legs off of the bed and staggering over towards him. She almost fell when she got over to him, but he put a strong hand out to stabilise her until she managed to sit in the chair next to his bed. 'Thanks.'

'I already knew Millwood before I got here,' he whispered, his face close to hers.

'Yeah, she told me she is your general internist.'

'Well, yes, but she was also one of my contacts on the Keefe assignment. If any of the Keefes came here for treatment, she was supposed to make sure that they were killed quietly.'

'Oh God,' Lisa said, putting her hand to her mouth.

'Good thing she's not a surgeon,' Jackson said, biting his bottom lip. 'Or we wouldn't be talking to each other right now.'

'You also wouldn't be dying slowly as she lulls you into a coma,' Lisa hissed before looking at him closely. 'Where is she? Why hasn't she come in to re-up your Ativan?'

He shrugged, looking up at the door with his lips in the normal pucker. 'Your parents left with her a couple of hours ago. There must have been an accident or something that's kept her busy, and none of the nurses have given me the Ativan since the first few days.'

'You're so calm about this.'

His eyes moved from the door to her. She was giving him a pitied look that he laughed at a bit. 'How do you expect me to act? In case you've forgotten, I have two gunshots, a hole in my left thigh and a healing tracheotomy. Besides, you should know from earlier that as soon as these electrodes are removed, they'll know.'

He lied back down on the bed and looked out at the storm, listening to Lisa breathing. Her breath came closer as she lifted his sheets and slipped a leg under the cotton, pressing it against his own. He didn't move as she shifted her weight to lie on her side next to him, and only moved his arm because she lifted it to lay her head on his chest. His arm hung for a moment off the side of the bed before he reluctantly reached up to put his hand on her waist. Her other leg stretched over to put a cold foot under his leg.

The lightning reflected in their eyes as they both looked past his IV stand and to the raging storm outside. Although Lisa was melting into him, Jackson remained cold. She nuzzled her face to his chest, but he showed absolutely no warmth. As though expecting this, however, Lisa didn't question him or stop. He just kept his sight trained on the sounds of the storm and the general murmur that went on outside of the door, keeping a keen ear out for anyone who might be entering the room.

'How old are you?' Lisa suddenly asked, making Jackson jump a bit.

'What?' he asked with a tone that made it apparent he thought the question was ludicrous.

'How old are you,' she repeated, reaching an arm around to lie on his chest.

'28,' he replied dully, never having looked at her.

'They asked me when they came to take you here,' she said, and he could suddenly tell that the drug cocktail she'd been given earlier hadn't completely worn off. 'I guessed wrong.'

He finally turned his head to look down at her, but all that he could see was her messy hair. Gingerly, he reached over and brushed her hair away from her face and she in turn looked up at him.

'Is Jackson Rippner your real name?' she murmured, her lips barely moving.

'Yes. Jackson Alexander Rippner.'

'Did...' she paused to yawn. 'Did you really kill your parents?'

He looked back out of the window. 'Yes.'

She stiffened a bit against him. 'Have you killed anyone else?'

'No,' he replied.

She relaxed once more and looked out of the window. Rubbing her back with his thumb absentmindedly, he lowered his eyebrows in thought as she took a handful of the pale blue scrubs he was wearing and buried her face into his chest. He tensed against her touch and when he did so, he could have sworn he heard her sigh softly.

'Who did you get your eyes from?' her speech slightly slurred.

He chose to ignore her until she pulled at the front of his scrubs. 'My father, all right? Stop asking all of these stupid questions.'

'One more,' she murmured. 'Do you like your job?'

He jabbed his thumb into her back and she gasped, a response he smiled a bit at before becoming completely serious. 'You already know the answer.'

Lisa gave an approving noise as her grip on the front of his scrubs relaxed and after a few moments, she began to snore lightly. He narrowed his eyes as she shifted, wrapping her legs around one of his, but he made no attempt to detach her. He could only be confused by her reaction to him; never before had any of his captives turned on him like this. He'd been directed to seduce many women over his ten years as a professional assassination manager, but by the end, he'd either just disappeared or found the women spitting on him in rage when they realised what he'd made them do. That was, of course, before they themselves were killed by his associates, so maybe that was a special circumstance.

Still, he couldn't understand the woman who had so intimately attached herself to him, but he had the dual problem of not knowing how he felt towards her. After watching her so closely over the eight weeks before their meeting, he felt abnormal pity for his target. Typically, the women he dealt with were aggravating socialites who thought of no one but themselves, and after years of dealing exclusively with that kind of woman, he had very little respect for their wants and needs. He was always put on the cases involving women because of his incredible understanding of their weaknesses and knew the kind of women in these cases usually just paid attention to a pretty face.

As he looked out onto Russell Square on 7 July, he'd picked up the phone and called the head of the organisation. Less than a week earlier, he'd managed the assassination of Ihab al-Sherif and had been allotted vacation, so he took the break in England, one of the few developed countries where he hadn't been involved in an assassination. He'd fallen asleep on the Underground from Heathrow to Russell Square, and by the time he woke up, the train had already turned around at Cockfosters and was coming up on Caledonian Road. He'd been reading _USA Today European Edition_ when the train left from Kings Cross, and between Kings Cross and Russell Square, he'd been jolted from his seat as an explosion ripped through the car behind his own. His briefcase fell from the overhead and cracked onto his head, but he didn't let himself pass out. Covered in soot from head to toe, he'd extracted the briefcase, which held papers regarding his last assignment, and found his way in the dark to Russell Station with a couple of locals. In the pandemonium following the bombing, he was able to slip out of the station without drawing attention to himself, and after checking in very quickly, he went up to his room.

It was in that phone call that he expressed his interest in quitting; the job just didn't hold as much interest with him if any unskilled person could cause so much havoc. In the new age of worldwide terrorism, people were becoming too accustomed to death and it was no longer a valid way to send a message. As he waited for the call to connect in the chaos and flurry of calls caused by it, he had stood in the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. A trickle of blood came down his forehead and had bled so much that the trail disappeared under his chin. His eyes seemed dull to him, and he had sighed as he heard a voice at the other end.

He hadn't explained himself fully in the call, but something in the patron's voice told Jackson that he knew why his golden boy was resigning. He'd given him an offer he couldn't refuse, a really easy assignment: just study a woman for eight weeks, corner her and get her to change the room of the Deputy Director of Homeland Security at the Lux Atlantic in Miami. It was something that couldn't be messed up and resembled some of the first assignments he'd been given as a college freshman.

Maybe it had to do with knowing it was his last case that he'd worked so hard on it, to go out with a bang—he studied her movements more than anyone he'd ever stalked and quickly found out that she wasn't the normal target. She was never with other people, never seemed to sleep for more than a couple of hours at a time, always ran from her car when she parked in a lot whether it was day or night and had an odd habit of locking every door in her house whenever she was home. He was taken with her because she was something noticeably different.

When they were on the plane together, she behaved like every woman he'd ever worked with, what with the typical crying and numerous attempts at escape. But there was something deeper, something that he found almost threatening. She seemed to see through everything he did, something he became acutely aware of when he cornered her in the lavatory. She'd looked straight into his eyes and saw his hesitation, and he hated her for it. Once she stabbed him in the throat, he knew he had to destroy her because she knew the location of his Achilles' tendon.

All he wanted was to kill her so he could move on to obscurity, but she fought too much to let him go quietly. He spilled all of his rage out on her, sore that she had found the way past his icy façade—he wanted her to hate him again. And yet, even after she almost killed him, he remembered the look she offered him. It was an honest look of sympathy and fear.

Jackson snapped out of his musings as the door clicked open.

---

The incredible storm had slowed to a steady pattering of rain when Lisa woke up. She curled up completely before realising that there was no beep of the cardiac monitor and that she was no longer nestled against Jackson. She pushed herself up and looked around, hoping to find him in the gurney she had originally slept in, but he was nowhere to be found. She stumbled out of bed and over to the door, pulling it open cautiously. Her mouth dropped open as she noticed that the security guard was no longer standing guard. She stepped out into the hallway and looked to the right, towards the waiting room and was about to start running that way until she heard a squeaking sound coming from the other direction. Turning around, Lisa released the breath she'd been holding and put her hand to her chest.

Jackson was limping down the hallway with one side supported by his metal IV stand and the other supported by a nurse. His jaw was set as though the walking was causing him great pain. Lisa held the door open for them as the nurse took Jackson back to the bed and started reattaching him to the monitoring equipment as the security guard, who had been following them, watched. When the nurse finished, she took his vitals before smiling at Lisa and leaving. Lisa stepped in and closed the door.

'I was worried.'

He quirked an eyebrow at her. 'I had to go make sure there were no soapy messages on the mirrors.'

She laughed and made her way back to the bed, but Jackson laid his hand down to stop her from getting in. She pursed her lips and sat down in the chair beside the bed.

'Jackson, do you think I'm crazy?'

He sighed heavily, his icy eyes set on her own. 'As much as it pains me to say it, no.'

She cocked her head to the side. 'Then...'

'You've beat me again. How does it feel?' he asked her, raising his eyebrows. 'I hope you know this doesn't happen often.'

Her eyes scanned his face and she reached up to brush the side of his face with her fingers. For a moment, he nuzzled into her hand but stopped almost immediately.

'Leese, stop it,' he said angrily, hitting her hand away. 'Be logical for just once in your life, would you?'

'God!' she screamed, throwing her hands in the air. 'Will you stop with all of this crap about logic? How about, just for once, you tell me how you feel rather than how you're told to feel?'

He kept his cold glare set on her.

'If you testify against the people who hired you, you can avoid jail,' she said to him, leaning forward with a begging look. 'That's what I came here to tell you in the first place.'

He laughed at her. 'I already told you that I'm not suicidal.'

She stood, reeled back her hand and hit him hard across the face. He seemed absolutely stunned as she spoke in a purring voice. 'But you also told me that you'd steal me.'

'What...' he muttered, turning his face away from her 'Lisa, stop. Stop it right now. I don't know what's got into you, but...'

'But what?' she asked in a half-voice, reaching over to rub his chest before dropping down to rub her nose against the nape of his neck. 'I love you, Jackson.'

Jackson's eye twitched. 'Leese...'

When he turned, he looked straight into her eyes intently, and his immediate impression was that Lisa seemed incredibly lucid. Her eyes weren't clouded over like they would be if she were under the influence of some drug, but rather seemed alert; as he gazed deeply, he could see no hesitation behind her look; the only negative emotion that seemed to resonate from her was sadness. He shifted his head closer to hers until their noses touched. Her eyes closed as her lips parted, and after a moment's hesitation, Jackson's lips connected with her own.

Their kiss was gossamer, yet intense. The touch of his lips was soft and she found herself smiling as the simple kiss stopped. She laid her forehead against his and moved her lips down to kiss his cheek, but she found that he had grown tense once more.

'Jackson...' she said with a questioning tone before following his gaze to the open door of the room and straightened, trying to cover Jackson from the woman who was walking in.

'Well, this certainly doesn't help your case, does it?' Dr Millwood said, closing the door behind her as she strode towards them. 'And your parents have kept me occupied long enough for the drugs to leave his system. Bad girl.'

Lisa was surprised to feel Jackson's arms wrap protectively around her.

'You can't protect her, Rippner,' Millwood said, rolling her eyes. 'Once we've finished you off, there will be no one to save her from the Society.'

Jackson's grip on Lisa tightened as Millwood stepped forward with a prepped needle. He misinterpreted her movement, however, and whilst he pushed Lisa away and onto the floor, Millwood was going for his catheter. She had inserted the needle when Lisa suddenly kicked Millwood's legs out from under her. Millwood made a move to stand, but Lisa pounced on her, pinning her to the ground. The doctor thrashed about below her as Jackson reached out and punched at the nurse call button. Lisa gasped, completely caught off guard, as she felt dual needles jab into the little strip of skin between the waistband of her skirt and the bottom of her shirt. She jumped straight up and kicked Millwood in the stomach before casting a terrified glance at Jackson and running towards the door.

Lisa threw the door open and ran past the guard into the hallway, slipping, falling on her side and sliding into a doorframe. After holding her head, she pushed herself up and looked at the guard helplessly.

_'She's trying to kill him_!' she said, her voice slurring, to the man who still seemed stunned by her exit.

Raising her eyebrows as her eyes filled with tears, Lisa shoved herself up and off of the floor, staggering drunkenly down the hall towards a group of nurses that were rushing towards the room. She reached towards them, trying to muster the strength to scream, but instead the mixture took effect and she collapsed in the middle of the hallway. One nurse bent down to her as the others ran by. The man looked her over and pulled out the syringes that had been jammed into her side before steadying her head in one hand and pulling out a flashlight to check her pupil dilation.

'Dr Millwood is trying _to kill_ Jackson Rippner,' she said softly, her head lolling about in the man's hand.

The rest of the nurses went into Jackson's room just as Dr Millwood jumped on top of Jackson, who had managed to detach himself from all of the equipment except for the cardiac monitor. As she pinned him to the ground, she reached up and took the syringe from his disposed catheter. He thrashed under her before looking up at the group of nurses who had walked in and now stood paralysed with confusion and fear. Millwood's eyes looked up at the syringe and one of the nurses gasped.

'Dr Millwood, what are you _doing_? ' the woman screamed. 'That's a lethal dosage!'

The woman laughed mirthfully as she jabbed the needle into Jackson's back. The nurses gasped collectively before the security guard broke through the group. Dr Millwood gleefully began to inject Jackson when the security guard realised what was happened and aimed his gun at Dr Millwood. A shot broke through the hospital, making Lisa lucid for a split second, and Dr Millwood collapsed, blood staining her lab-coat from her shoulder as the nurses converged on her and Jackson. A doctor came in with a gurney and a retinue of assistants, and they lifted the convulsing woman onto the gurney and rushed her out as the nurses pulled Jackson off of the floor. The doctor who came in started barking instructions.

'Okay, we have an Ativan overdose,' he yelled as the group reattached Jackson's monitors and reinserted a catheter. 'We're going to need the increase the drip of saline and an immediate shot of Flumazenil!'

One nurse scattered out of the room and towards the pharmacy before a nurse carrying Lisa came in and laid the woman on the gurney that had been shoved to the side as the medics were working on the still-conscious Jackson. Lisa fought against the medication invading her body and the effects of the concussion she'd sustained when she hit the doorframe, wanting to keep her gaze on Jackson. His eyes rolled about and he began to gasp for air as he tried to reach for his throat.

'We need a breathing tube!' one of the nurses screamed as the nurse who left for the Flumazenil returned, also carrying the tube.

The doctor took the tube and after assuring that the airway was clear, stuck the plastic tube down Jackson's throat. A nurse attached an oxygen bag to the tube and started pumping as the doctor used his stethoscope to listen to how the air was circulating through Jackson's lungs. He nodded to the nurses and one of them started up the respirator and attached it to the breathing tube as Jackson's eyes closed, followed soon by Lisa's. Tape was placed to hold the respirator in his mouth.

Sometime during the madness, the nurse who had the syringe of Flumazenil attached it into Jackson's catheter and he stood staring at the cardiac monitor as he slowly injected the anti-sedative. Jackson's heartbeat slowed drastically as the Ativan set in.

'Get the paddles ready,' the doctor said as a nurse rolled over the machine and turned it on, filling the room with electronic humming.


	6. 23 September 2005

A/N: I have the flu again! What are the odds of having it twice in the season? And the season isn't even over yet!

---

Two weeks later, Lisa stood under the hot stream of water coming out of the showerhead. She was leaned against the tile wall, staring at a place in the grout as the steam rose around her. Her eyelids were half-closed as she listened to the water running and the hum of sounds outside. There was the sound of paper rustling outside of the curtain and she heard a woman sigh.

'Ms Reisert, are you all right?'

'I... I'm fine,' Lisa replied, standing up straight as she began gingerly lathering her hair. 'Sorry, I zoned out. Just a minute and I'll be finished.'

She ran her hair under the water quickly to get all of the shampoo out before walking through a curtain to dry her hair and body. The nurse handed in a fresh hospital gown and scrub pants into her; she changed into them before exiting to where the nurse had been reading her newspaper. The nurse handed her a white sweater that she took gratefully and put on before putting on her hospital slippers and lacing her arm into her nurse's. They walked down the hallway to the new room that she was staying in and the nurse opened the door. The new room was higher up in the hospital and had more windows and ventilation; there were a lot more machines and two permanent beds in the room.

The nurse watched as Lisa walked over quietly to sit in one of the two chairs in the room, and once she was comfortable, the nurse quietly closed the door and left, taking her place in a chair that sat outside a plate window that looked into the room. It was quiet as Lisa looked over her motionless roommate.

'Hi Jackson,' she said softly, reaching out to take his hand. There was no reaction from him.

Since the attack by Millwood, Jackson had remained in a coma and the tubes sticking out of him and the monitors attached to him had increased at least in triplicate. The security guard had been moved soon after the attack as all media eyes had fallen upon 'Dr Death.' There was confusion about where to point fingers regarding the bombing of the Lux Atlantic because now there were louder whispers of conspiracy. Dr Millwood, unfortunately, was not so easy to break in interrogations, so the investigation had all but stagnated.

With a sigh, Lisa looked out into the darkness. Off in the distance, she could see the lights of fishing boats that were out at sea, but other than that, there wasn't much to view from the top-storey room. She dropped Jackson's hand, scooted the chair closer to his bed then took his hand in one of hers and slowly ran her fingers through his hair.

On the other side of the window, Joe Reisert looked in at his daughter as he stood next to Dr Charles Foster, the doctor who had first aided Jackson and was now supervised both Jackson and Lisa. The men stood with their arms crossed as they watched Lisa apparently giving Jackson a very animated run-down of the day. The doctor turned to the nurse, who was back to reading her paper.

'How has she been today?'

'I think she's doing very well. We've been working on increasing her time away from him, and she's been responding to treatment,' the nurse said, setting her newspaper on a messy end table next to her chair. 'We're still waiting for the results from the last MRI, but we believe that the concussion didn't have as much of an effect as we originally thought it would.'

'Wonderful,' the doctor said, looking with a smile at Joe, who was still looking into the dim room, fingering his beard. 'Has Jackson responded at all to stimulation?'

'He's actually moved up a level on the GCS,' the nurse said excitedly, looking between the two men. Joe turned to look at her questioningly. 'The Glasgow Coma Scale. It's how we measure a patient's consciousness.'

Joe nodded slowly. 'What does this mean then?'

'Well, which part of the scale has he improved upon?'

'E1, V2, M3.'

'He's spoken?'

The nurse nodded. 'It's very quiet, but every now and then he'll murmur incomprehensibly.'

'If he's showing progress like this on his own, perhaps we should arrange for sensory stimulation,' he said, writing something down on the paper before handing the clipboard back to her. 'Please deliver this to the nurses' station.'

Dr Foster watched her walk off before turning back to Lisa's father. He was back to looking through the window but was staring off into the distance rather than at his daughter. The younger man reached up and placed his hand on Joe's shoulder.

'You know it's better this way, right, Mr Reisert? This is the best we can offer to help her cope with post-traumatic stress disorder,' the doctor said softly. 'I really think it's working quite well for both of them.'

Joe nodded with a serious look on his face.

'By confining their time apart to trial separations, it's allowed Lisa to realise that if she leaves him, he won't disappear and no one will hurt him. Going slowly is the main article in the treatment,' Dr Foster said, trying to read Joe's face before he tried to stimulate conversation. 'There is the problem, however, of how close she's grown to him despite the time apart.'

'She already had deep feelings for him,' Joe admitted. 'It's an odd way to meet your soul-mate, but I don't think we can deny it anymore.'

'You realise that by this point, there's only the tiniest chance that she actually has Stockholm syndrome, yes?'

Joe nodded. 'It was a small percentage in the first place.'

Both men turned around as Carol Bellamy walked up with a tray from the hospital cafeteria. Without a word, the three walked into the hospital room. Carol went over to Lisa's bed and sat the tray on the nightstand as her ex-husband pulled a chair over next to their daughter. Dr Foster went over to the other side of Jackson and began studying the outputs of the electroencephalograph and electrocardiograph, taking notes as he did so. Carol sat down on Lisa's bed and watched as her ex-husband put his arm around their daughter's shoulders.

'Hi honey,' Joe said, rubbing her upper arm. 'How are you feeling today?'

Lisa turned and smiled at her father. 'I've had a headache on and off all day, but other than that, I'm feeling a lot better. I think the time being off-call has helped.'

'Taking time off is good for everyone,' Joe replied, pulling her towards him and laying his chin on top of her head. 'I'm glad you decided to do it. Your mother and I are very proud of how far you've gone at your job in such a short time, but there's a very fine line between being a model employee and grinding yourself into the ground.'

Lisa relaxed against her father but didn't let go of Jackson's hand. Joe watched as she lightly rubbed the top of his hand with her thumb before sighing and swallowing his hatred for the man in the bed in front of him.

'How is Jackson doing?' he asked in a strained voice.

'He talks at night,' she admitted, raising her eyebrows as she explained. 'They took the breathing tube out yesterday afternoon and he's been mumbling randomly ever since.'

'Your nurse mentioned that,' her father replied as he rubbed her arm again.

'She told me that when I left for my MRI today, they came to take a finger blood sample to check for...' her voice drifted as she thought. '... some long word I can't remember. But she told me that his finger flexed when they did it. I keep hoping that he'll respond to me holding his hand, but apparently he's still at the point where he only responds to pain.'

'That's a great improvement though,' Carol's voice came from behind them. The woman walked up to them and crouched down beside Lisa. 'I bet that because of the improvement, they're going to start bombarding his senses so that his brain has to wake his body up.'

'Dr Foster actually already filled out the paperwork to start it,' Joe said, remembering the conversation in the hallway.

'What does that entail, mom?' Lisa asked, turning her head to look at her mother.

'Well, I know what it entails at my hospital, but it changes from place to place,' Carol said as she rose to sit on the arm of the chair Lisa was in. 'What do you do for coma arousal therapy here, Dr Foster?'

The red-haired man looked up from the EEG. 'We're actually going to be training Lisa how to do it.'

Her parents both noticed that Lisa perked up.

'It's all about stimulating the senses,' the doctor stated quite matter-of-factly. 'Vision, hearing, taste, smell, touch. He's been able to have pupil constriction since the coma set in, so we'll be using flashing lights to try to convince his brain to keep his eyes open. Once we can achieve that, the nurse will give you a set of flashcards that you need to use to stimulate his vision.

'When it comes to auditory stimulation, he'll be taken to a different room for that. He'll be in a therapy room down the hallway that's sound-proof because kick-starting the auditory organs can be absolutely ear-shattering for people who are conscious,' he said, looking up to Lisa and her parents, who were all listening to him rather intently. 'His smell and taste tests will be in here, but they'll be performed by a trained therapist because there's the chance that he may react negatively to some of the stimuli, and that risk is multiplied by the fact that we can't seem to find any medical records on him in Dr Millwood's office, so we have no clue if he has allergies.

'The last one, touch, will involve a little bit of...' Dr Foster thought through what he was going to say carefully. '... _questionable_ therapy. It will be left for you to do.'

Lisa's parents looked at each other uncomfortably, but Lisa pressed Dr Foster. 'What do you mean by questionable?'

'Well, some of it will be applied by a professional, like deep pressure massaging,' he said. 'But the rest of it involves rough handling such as pinching and slapping. We typically employ family and significant others because their touches seem to incite more of a response.'

'I'll slap him,' Joe said when he noticed Lisa's blushing cheeks.

'Dad!'

Joe responded to his daughter by giving her a noogie.


	7. 24 and 27 September 2005

A/N: It's been rainy for the last few days and I couldn't possibly care less about actually leaving the house. I do, however, have to drive to class an hour away. Also, I know there's been a gap in updates on my Jackson, but I'll tell you all that as of yesterday night, we've started hospice with him. He's receiving no more medication, and if he makes it through the weekend, we'll most likely be putting him to sleep late next week. I don't want him to live life like this, and there's no way I'm going to be so selfish as to keep him alive just for my own emotions. He needs to have peace.

---

Early the next morning, a squat oriental woman wearing a business suit stepped out of the lift on the ninth floor of Mercy Hospital. Opening her Daytimer, she paused for a moment to look up the room number for her assignment, and once she found it, she found a sign and headed the right direction. All the rooms on the floor had large picture windows that were reinforced with steel netting in their centres, and as she walked along, she could see a wide array of people in varying states of mental awareness from comatose to manic. A nurse was stationed at each room and most of them were reading newspapers or magazines. She came to 923 and the nurse looked up at her.

'Good morning,' the nurse said pleasantly. 'You must be Dr Ahn. I'm Ellen Matthews, Mr Rippner's lead nurse.'

'Pleased to meet you,' Dr Ahn said tersely. 'Is the patient ready to be seen?'

'Let me check,' Ellen said, standing and walking into the room, closing the door behind her. Dr Ahn heard some noise inside as the nurse opened the blinds to the outside and the hallway before coming back out. 'You can go ahead and come in.'

Dr Ahn followed Ellen in and looked towards the bed that was surrounded by the most equipment. A brunette woman with half-closed eyes was curled up against the comatose patient, and as soon as the stranger walked in, the woman sat up and slipped carefully out of the bed, pulling the sheets back over the man. Dr Ahn looked the young woman up and down, noting her appearance. She wore scrubs with a sweater over them, had bare feet and her hair was mussed up. Disgust was written plainly on the doctor's face.

'Hello, Mrs Rippner,' Dr Ahn said with her lips pinched together.

Lisa, still in a post-sleep daze, stared blankly at the doctor as Ellen laughed lightly. 'Hm?'

'I'm here to begin working on your husband.'

'My...?' Lisa queried before looking back at Jackson and effectively waking up completely. 'Oh, oh no, he's not my husband.'

Dr Ahn raised an eyebrow. 'The request stated that you would be the person to work with him during my off-time.'

Lisa nodded and yawned. 'I'm the only person that he knows who lives around here and isn't trying to kill him... I think.'

The doctor blinked quickly before setting her bag on the table behind her. 'Well then, let's start. We'll begin with visual stimulation. Nurse Matthews, how has the patient responded to light?'

'The pupils have been contracting since the onset of coma.'

'Good, good,' she said, opening her large bag.

After digging around for a few moments, Dr Ahn pulled out a small light. Lisa watched her carefully with crossed arms as Ahn went to Jackson's right side whilst Ellen went to Jackson's left side. After moving down to his feet, Lisa put her hands on the footboard and looked up at the two women. Ellen took a small flashlight out of her pocket and pried open one of Jackson's eyes, flashing the light across the pupil to prove to Dr Ahn that it was responding correctly to stimuli; Lisa found herself gazing sadly into the clouded blue eyes.

'What a fantastic shade of blue,' Dr Ahn murmured as Ellen let go of Jackson's eyelid and slipped her flashlight back into her pocket.

Dr Ahn looked up at the traction bar over Jackson's bed and pulled over a hook. She yanked at a retractable line coming from the light she'd pulled from her bag and hung it from the hook before walking over to plug the light into the wall. Despite looking at Lisa seriously, she addressed Ellen.

'Does the other patient have any light sensitivities?'

'Why don't you ask her?' Ellen asked, furrowing her brow. 'Her name is Lisa.'

'I don't,' Lisa said, smiling lightly at Ellen.

Without another word, Dr Ahn switched on the strobe light and pushed it closer to Jackson's face. Once the incessant blinking had started, Ellen walked over and closed the blinds into the hall and Dr Ahn went back to her bag to pull out a worn pack of gaudy-looking cards. She came to Lisa and dropped them in her outstretched hands.

'These are the cards we use for visual stimulation,' she said, indicating the cards that Lisa was already flipping through. 'Each card is very colourful and displays pictures on a contrasting background. As you present each card to him, you must say what the picture is.'

Lisa laughed lightly at the thought of Jackson Rippner being taught with flashcards, but Dr Ahn obviously didn't see the humour in the situation and just gave her an icy glare. Clearing her throat, Lisa shifted her weight from one foot to the other before looking back at Jackson, who just looked like he was trying to avoid acknowledging that he was at a discotheque. Touching his foot as she walked by, she went to her own bed and slipped on the house shoes she'd been wearing around the hospital before setting the cards on Jackson's nightstand.

'How long will it take for him to respond to treatment?' Lisa asked, reaching over to brush the top of his hand with the backs of her fingers.

'It varies with every patient,' Dr Ahn replied, fishing a calliper out of her bag and bringing it to Lisa. 'As he's receiving light therapy, you need to pinch him with these—the harder, the better. You should also talk to him, and I'll begin working on the smell and taste stimulation.'

After the woman walked away, Lisa stared down at the calliper. Slowly, she slipped her hand under Jackson's and lifted it over to her. With a look of apology and regret knitted together on her face, she took the calliper and set the points of the instrument on his arm.

'I hope your love of sadism covers masochism too,' she murmured to him.

'You must talk louder if you want to stimulate the auditory canals!'

Lisa rolled her eyes as she began pinching Jackson up and down his arm, at first very lightly but growing increasingly harder as she talked to him about nothing in particular. She sighed heavily as minutes passed with no response but suddenly she felt his hand grip onto hers and she stopped, staring at his curling fingers. Hesitantly, she gave his arm another particularly hard pinch and he responded by grabbing her hand harder.

'He's responding to pain,' she said to the two other women. Dr Ahn nodded and Ellen smiled.

'Are you watching his eyes, Nurse Matthews?' asked Dr Ahn, still hunched over what looked like tissue paper to Lisa. 'If he's responding to one stimulus, he may begin responding to another.'

---

Four hours later, when Dr Ahn finally freed Lisa and Ellen from her tyranny and left a table full of Petri-dished taste strips for Ellen to administer later, both women visibly relaxed. Ellen fell back into a seat on Jackson's left side, keeping her sight trained on Jackson's now twitching eyes. Lisa had her head laid facedown on the sheets beside Jackson, her right hand still busy pinching his exposed stomach with the calliper. She could feel him withdraw every few pinches, but it was no longer an exciting occurrence.

'I was out of town when the attack on the Lux happened,' Ellen suddenly said. 'I'd stopped taking the paper for the week, so I didn't get any of the headlines about it, and right after the attack, Hurricane Katrina hit, so, you know, the papers didn't say much about the attack after that.'

Lisa looked up at the woman, who had an inquisitive look on her face.

'I've only got snippets from friends and neighbours,' she continued. 'But you know how second- and third-hand news is. Inaccuracies abound.'

'Jackson took me captive on a flight from Dallas to Miami, forced me to change Charles Keefe's room at the Lux Atlantic so that Keefe could be assassinated more easily; I stabbed him in the throat with a pen, called to evacuate the Lux Atlantic, ran over Jackson's associate,; Jackson followed me home, we had a fight like something out of a movie and I ended up having the upper hand,' Lisa said quickly.

Ellen was silent for a moment. 'Perhaps there were less inaccuracies than I was expecting.'

'Yeah, doesn't it sound like a fairy tale?'

'Sometimes fairy tales start out really oddly,' Ellen said pensively. 'I... can't think of any of them right now, but I'm sure there are some.'

Lisa laughed. 'I've never denied that this is a weird turn of events.'

The nurse shrugged as she looked over Jackson to check the output on the EEG. 'If everyone went by society's expectations, people would be even more miserable than they are already.'

Ellen gasped and jumped out of her seat like she'd sat on a tack. Caught off guard, Lisa jumped too and followed Ellen's brown eyes to Jackson's half-open eyes. Lisa planted her hand firmly on Jackson's chest and leaned in toward him, holding her face over the strobe light. His eyes were opening very slowly and there was absolutely no recognition of anything displayed in them; in fact, he looked rather soulless. Lisa reached up and held his hair out of his face.

'Jackson,' she said, rubbing her thumb on his forehead.

'Don't try, Lisa,' Ellen said, rolling the hook the light hung off of back to Jackson's feet and turning it off. 'It's a subconscious reaction to the flashing of the light.'

Lisa's shoulders hunched.

Ellen walked over and grabbed the cards from the nightstand. 'Here, start using these and I'll start the smell and taste sections.'

Numbly taking the cards, Lisa shuffled them and pulled one out at random.

---

At the end of her shift, Cynthia was given the task of delivering all of the flowers and gifts from Lisa's co-workers at the Lux Atlantic. When she got to Mercy Hospital, sneezing madly from the pollen on the flowers, she was pointed to a lift and told to go to the ninth floor psychiatric ward. On the top floor, she walked cautiously down the hallway, peeking out from behind a bunch of roses every few steps to keep track of where she was. Once she found room 923, she sighed relief and pushed the door open, only to promptly freeze in reaction to the scene inside.

'Computer!' Lisa screamed, holding a neon pink and space orange card with a picture of a laptop in Jackson's face.

Lisa was straddling Jackson's chest, and just as Cynthia was beginning to wonder why, Lisa reeled back and slapped Jackson harshly across the face before holding the card in front of him again and repeating herself. Cards were strewn all around the bed. Meanwhile, a nurse was looking intently at a Petri dish before taking it and placing it on Jackson's tongue between slaps. The nurse looked unhappy.

'No response to wasabi.'

'He's probably been tortured before, so I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't respond to it even normally. Lamp!' Lisa yelled before slapping him again, but with the other hand.

'Oh my God, they've turned control of the psych ward over to the inmates,' Cynthia said, not realising she'd said it out loud.

Lisa and Ellen both turned to look at Cynthia, who was still wearing one of her white work dresses streaked with lily pollen. The two scrubs-clad women looked at each other and started laughing, which caused Cynthia to move back a step, but when Lisa turned back with tears in her eyes from laughing so hard, she relaxed and walked over to set down the armfuls of flowers on Lisa's night-stand.

'When people ask how you're doing, what am I supposed to say?' Cynthia asked seriously, her eyes wide and her eyebrows raised.

Laughing, Lisa carefully bypassed the tubes connected to Jackson with Ellen's help and slipped down to stand next to Cynthia. She put her arms around her friend. 'That I'm doing great. We're working on sensory overload to break Jackson out of the coma.'

Ellen picked up the cards from the floor and carefully piled them back up. Picking up a clipboard from the side table, she wrote a few things down and then excused herself from the room deliver the papers to the nurse's station.

'Lisa, that was the weirdest thing I've ever seen in my entire life.'

'Then you haven't been working at the hotel for long enough,' replied Lisa as she straightened the sheets over Jackson.

'I don't think I'll ever see someone on someone else's chest screaming words from flashcards, randomly throwing in slaps across the face,' Cynthia said, and she was answered by a disbelieving look from Lisa that made her shiver. 'Great, now I'm never going to be able to check someone in without wondering what's in their suitcases. Thanks, Lisa.'

'No problem,' Lisa replied as she sat down in one of the chairs next to Jackson's bed. 'So, how are things at the Lux?'

'Your dad told me I wasn't allowed to talk to you about work,' Cynthia said uncertainly. 'But we have the insurance all worked out and the rebuilding of the fortieth floor has started. They're framing it right now. It should be ready a little bit before Christmas.'

'Good, we'll have it for the rush of New Year's,' Lisa said with a sigh of relief and a smile. 'Any other good news?'

Cynthia thought for a moment before reaching down into her purse and pulling out an article that had been roughly torn out of a newspaper. 'Some scuba divers found a bazooka in the water a few miles down the coast from us. They think it might be the weapon used for the attack against Keefe.'

Lisa snatched the piece of newsprint from Cynthia's outstretched hands and began to read voraciously.

'It's apparently a really specialised weapon, so they think they might be able to trace it back to the person who purchased it,' Cynthia continued, crossing her legs as she spoke. 'It's really lucky it wasn't washed out to sea during the hurricane. They said they found it jammed between a couple of rocks.'

Dropping the newspaper story on the ground, Lisa reached out and pulled Cynthia into a tight hug.

---

When Jackson woke up four days later, his first thought was that he longed for a Sucret more than he'd longed for anything in his entire life. His throat was dry, he could feel a tube going through his nose down his throat to his stomach, and from the general pain, he knew that very recently he must have had a breathing tube. He sniffled, which led to an uncomfortable squeezing of the nasogastric tube, and then opened his eyes to darkness.

She was there beside him.

His hand was rested on the soft curve of her waist and he could smell the faint scent of her shampoo. As the air conditioning switched on in the room, the vent blasted cold air on them and he could feel her press against him, pulling up the sheets more as she did so. He lifted his hand to get her hair out of his face before taking a few lazy blinks as his eyes adjusted to the room. Absolutely nothing looked even remotely familiar.

'Leese,' he said hoarsely.

Her eyes flew open and she looked around like she'd heard an intruder in the room before turning to look at him. Her hand scrambled to turn on the light at the head of the bed and when she saw his alert blue eyes, her own green eyes began brimming with tears and she collapsed on him, sobbing.

Jackson Rippner had never been quite so uncomfortable.

At the sound of her sobs, the door flew open and a nurse with chocolate-coloured hair looked in at the two of them. Lisa had his upper body in a tight hug, but Jackson's arms were still to his sides and he didn't look as though he didn't know how to respond to her sobbing. Slowly, he reached up to put his hands on her back.

The nurse disappeared from the door and came back with a couple of other nurses and Dr Foster. Ellen managed to pry Lisa off of Jackson and held her as the other nurses and the doctor worked on the removal of the nasogastric tube, foley catheter and other now unneeded machinery. As they took stats and rearranged tubes, Lisa sank down in her normal chair and looked at Jackson's face, although he wasn't paying attention to her. When all of the work was done, only Dr Foster, Ellen, Lisa and Jackson remained in the room.

'Welcome back, Mr Rippner,' Dr Foster said. 'Miss Reisert has certainly missed you for the last eighteen days.'

'Eighteen days?' he asked with a rasp.

'You were in a coma following the attack by Dr Elisabeth Millwood,' Dr Foster replied. 'Ellen, could you go get some Chloraseptic for Mr Rippner?'

Ellen scurried out towards the nurse's station.

'Why is Lisa here?'

Dr Foster looked at Lisa. 'She's been admitted for post-traumatic stress disorder.'

'Expected,' Jackson tersely. 'Why is she living in my room?'

'I think I like him better when he was asleep,' Dr Foster quipped to Lisa before turning back to Jackson. 'It was not treatment for the trauma of the plane flight but rather for the trauma of Millwood's attack on you. She's stayed in here because of separation anxiety.'

Lisa stood and leaned over him, looking straight into his eyes before speaking in a whisper. 'I was afraid I'd lost you.'

For a moment, he looked at her as though she'd said something completely ludicrous, but after considering it, his look softened. 'You were here the entire time?'

She nodded, and he reached up with atrophied, shaky arms to tuck her hair behind her ears, settling his hands on her jaw as she dropped her face down to meet his. After the initial kiss, she nuzzled his face and paused for a moment, waiting to hear a crazed doctor bursting in, but only a second later, he grew impatient and locked his lips to hers. His fingers ran through her already mussed-up hair as the kiss deepened. They were vaguely aware of Dr Foster finishing his paperwork and leaving, and of Ellen walking in to put the bottle of Chloraseptic on the nightstand, but they were too wrapped up in each other to really notice.

'I like masochism too,' he breathed against her when their lips parted.

'What?' she said with an amused smile.

'I thought you asked me...' he said, his voice drifting before he pulled her head down to his and rejoined their lips.


	8. Morning, 28 September 2005

A/N: Short chapter this time, sorry.

Comrade Action Jackson Stillwell died at around 20:30 on Thursday, 9 November 2006. He was one year, nine days old. He was supposed to be put to sleep on the 10th, but he decided to be his own man and do things in his own time instead of listening to others. He was headstrong and we loved him for it. He was cremated on 10 November at around 9:30 in the morning, and his ashes were given to me at about 11:20. Since we got home, there has been a candle burning for him on my shrine, and he's resting peacefully in front of the goddess Kuanyin. To avoid confusion, I'm Mahayana Buddhist, and Kuanyin is the bodhisattva of compassion. Jackson died in front of her statue.

---

When Joe Reisert arrived at the hospital the next afternoon, he was surprised to nearly run head-on into his daughter and Jackson as he exited the lift. Looking at Jackson, one would hardly know that he'd been injured at all. The v-neck of his scrubs revealed the round scar caused by the pen tracheotomy, but other than that no other injuries were immediately apparent. He walked unsteadily with Lisa's arm around his waist and his arm across her shoulders, and from the serious look on his face, it appeared that he and Lisa had just been discussing the discovery of the bazooka in the waters off of the Florida coast.

'Dad!' Lisa said excitedly, tightening her grip on Jackson as one of his feet gave out a bit.

'Need some help, honey?' he asked, returning her smile as he took Jackson's other side. Both men tensed at the touch of one another, but Lisa's father continued speaking as though nothing was odd. 'Lisa, did you see the news this morning?'

She shook her head. 'Jackson had therapy first thing this morning—we just got back from it.'

'Dr Millwood has recovered enough to be taken into custody,' her father said as they made it back to the hospital room. He let go of Jackson and opened the door so that the younger man and his daughter could walk in, then closed the door behind them. 'The arraignment is on the docket for Wednesday.'

Joe watched his daughter help Jackson into his bed before continuing.

'The police might also be coming today to serve Jackson his summons to court.'

He saw his daughter tense up, but Jackson quickly reached up and brushed the side of her arm lightly to calm her. 'If the arraignment is so soon, I need to get a lawyer, Leese.'

'Dad,' Lisa said, turning around to look at her father. 'You know most of the lawyers in Dade County... could you...?'

He was motionless for a moment, but, realising that this was a request from his daughter and not from Jackson, he slowly nodded his head. Lisa walked over to her father and put her arms around him; he pulled her into a hug and looked over at Jackson. His gaze was set on Lisa, and for the first time, Joe saw a light smile grace the younger man's face. Relief flooded his body.

'I'll get to calling people. I'm sure we can get a really good plea bargain,' he said and then kissed his daughter on the head. 'If the police come, just accept the summons because the arraignment is where we'd bring up the terms of a plea anyway.'

Lisa nodded at her father as he left the room before turning back to Jackson. 'You have to submit a plea bargain, Jackson.'

'Leese...'

'Jackson,' she said sternly. 'This is no longer just you. As much as I'm sure you hate to admit it, it's about us now—you're stuck with me. You're not going to go to jail for the rest of your life.'

'Do you think it would be easier to constantly be in fear for your life?'

'Wouldn't I be worrying either way?'

There was silence in the room as Lisa went over to lie on her bed, her arms crossed. Jackson responded by looking out the window, being his normal emotionless self. Rage and envy burned inside her as she saw his poker face in her peripheral vision. She turned her head to stare at a vase of wilting flowers that was sitting on her nightstand but whipped around as she heard him clear his throat.

'Would you consider this our first or second fight?'

She narrowed her eyes at him. 'You're an ass.'

His lips curled into a smile as he looked over, but he quickly frowned and bit his bottom lip. 'Oh, you hurt me.'

'When's your birthday?'

He narrowed his eyes back at her. 'I thought you said you were finished with idiotic questions.'

'For that day,' she replied, looking smug. 'When's your birthday?'

'13 March,' he said before giving her a dirty look.

'Don't give me that look,' she warned him. 'You know everything about me. You know my birthday is the 18th of December, my mom is a psychiatrist, my dad is a former lawyer, I'm afraid of cockroaches, I've lived in Miami my entire life, all of my daily habits... just... everything! And I don't even know where you were born!'

'I had the benefit of a crash course in Lisa Reisert, yes, but it's an extremely unnatural feeling,' Jackson admitted. 'People are supposed to slowly learn about each other. It shouldn't be so one-sided.'

'Which is why I want to even the scale out,' she said, turning onto her side to keep a better eye on him.

He responded by giving her an untrustworthy look and turning onto his right side so that his back was to her, and then pulled the sheets up to his shoulders and laid looking out the window at the ocean. There was permeable silence and tension between the two of them for a couple of long minutes, and although Lisa was just becoming increasingly aggravated, Jackson was assessing the situation as he was wont to do in any tight spot. As he heard her get out of bed and start walking towards the door, however, he had to snap out of his musings.

'Albany.'

Lisa stopped pulling down the door handle.

'I was born in Albany, New York,' he said slowly. 'My parents were named Michael and Alice. Michael was a business man who lived in New York City during the week, Alice was an attorney and I was a mistake.'

Lisa turned around to look at him, but he was in the same position as he was when she got out of bed. Slowly, she walked back to her bed and sat down, looking at the floor under his bed as he spoke.

'My life was... fine, I suppose, until I was ten and Michael's company went bankrupt. Before then, I went to boarding school, so I didn't have to see my parents much, but once he didn't have a big pay check coming in, I was sent to public school. After awhile, he started drinking, became abusive, you know, the normal thing,' Jackson said with a shrug, his voice remaining emotionless. 'He started abusing me because I was an easier target than Alice and she didn't even try to stop him. I guess I should have thanked them both for making me emotionally unavailable—after all, it helps me with my job, and my job pays _extremely_ well—but instead, I killed them one day.'

The detachment with which he said the last sentence disturbed Lisa. She put her legs back up on the bed and pulled the sheets up before putting her arms around her bent legs.

'There was a huge snowstorm and no one could get anywhere. Alice stayed home from work and I stayed home from school. During breakfast, Michael got mad at me for watching the snow instead of listening to him ramble about something, so he pulled me out to the yard by my hair and made me stand barefoot in the snow. He went back inside and locked the door. So there I was, ten years old, standing out in three feet of snow wearing a pair of thin pyjama pants and a t-shirt in 10 degrees, not including wind chill. But hey, I was luckily near an axe Michael used to cut wood. So I took the axe and killed them.'

She looked over and noticed that she could see his reflection in the window. A smile crept over his face.

'They didn't find their bodies until three days later because of the storm, but after testimony from my neighbours and teachers, they decided to acquit me of all charges and I went to live with my aunt. That didn't work out, so I became a ward of the state.

'I lived in a children's home in Orangeburg until I was fifteen, at which time I was sent to high school at a boarding school in Michigan under patronage from my benefactor. I studied abroad in Prague during the first term of my senior year and that's where I first became really involved with the organisation. My first assignment, the year I turned eighteen, was managing the assassination of Yizhak Rabin.'

'Yigal Amir killed Rabin.'

'No, but he was blamed for it.'

Lisa fell silent once more.

'When I got back to the United States, I finished high school and started my studies at Miami Dade College,' he looked in the window to gauge her response to his alma mater and she rewarded him with a response.

'Really wanted to just be a number, didn't you?'

'I needed to be in a place where I could go to the first day of class and sit all of the exams but never go to any classes. It made fitting in work a lot easier.'

'So when I was partying with my sorority sisters...'

'I was arranging a long series of massacres during the Albanian civil wars.'

Lisa laid back quickly on her pillow. 'Incredible.'

She was surprised to hear him sigh lightly. 'Difficult. Exhausting. And as of recently, not at all fulfilling. Any yahoo can pull off an assassination or overthrow a government. It's nothing special, and people are growing so stoic to terror methods that there's really no point anymore. That's why you were going to be my last assignment.'

There was a knock at the door and both looked up as it opened and Ellen led a policeman in. He walked over to Jackson, holding out a paper. The two men looked at each other without a word as Jackson took it, understanding written in his cold eyes. The uniformed man left the room and Ellen looked at the two people with sympathy etched on her kind face.

'I just talked to Dr Foster, and he's prepared to discharge both of you,' she said quietly.


	9. Afternoon, 28 September 2005

A/N: Jackson's finished with first bardo, so tonight will be when his soul decides to go back into samsara or ascend to nirvana.

This is one of my favourite chapters. It's sexy, so if you don't wanna read sex scenes, then you'll need to move on!

---

A little over an hour later, Lisa Reisert walked out of the hospital wearing a pair of jeans and a blouse her father had brought her a few days before. Jackson followed her slowly, crutches under his arms, wearing the same suit and shirt from the day he was shot. As they made their way towards Lisa's car, she noticed that he was looking down at the bloodstains on the shirt with distaste. She opened the door for him and he hesitated.

'I need to stop by my place.'

Lisa was surprised she hadn't thought of it before. If he had gone to college in Miami and was assigned to her for his last job, it would only make since that he had a place to live in the city. After she closed the door and made it around to her side, she began trying to imagine the kind of place that Jackson would live. She figured it would be dark with rich colours, probably decorated with obscure art and odd furniture. In her mind's eye, she saw some sort of terrifying trap house.

Therefore, she was incredibly surprised when he directed her to a modern condominium complex right on the beach. They parked in a garage under the building next to a black Audi TT Roadster that Jackson hobbled over to and ran a finger over the car, unhappy about the dust that had accumulated during his absence. She followed him to a lift and watched as he pushed the button for the 27th floor.

'Could you hand me the key in my address book, Leese?'

Lisa dug through the bag that had been left by investigators earlier in the month and pulled out a card key marked 'Miami' (it, by the way, was mingling with cards labelled 'Berlin,' 'Geneva' and 'New York City,' amongst others). He took and inserted it into a card reader under a computer display and the LCD flickered to life, asking him to enter his PIN. One he did, the doors of the lift closed and they started moving smoothly up the shaft.

'A lot of security precautions...'

'Only the best.'

Soon they'd reached the 27th floor and the doors rolled open. The condominium ended up being the exact opposite of what Lisa expected. All of the walls were starkly white and the surfaces stainless steel. The decor was simple, each piece made of mahogany wood with white fabric. Although the wall behind them was solid, the one in front of them was made completely of windows looking out onto the ocean. Amazed, she almost stepped out onto the white carpet when Jackson grabbed her.

'Please take off your shoes,' he said airily. 'The carpet is very hard to clean.'

She reached down to set down the bag she was carrying and pull off the high heels she wore under her jeans before stepping onto the plush carpet and looking around the room. Jackson dropped his key card on the table and leaned his crutches against the entry wall before going to the kitchen and looking at his accumulated mail. Apparently nothing interesting had come, because a moment later, he walked slowly and crutchlessly behind Lisa, who was looking at the view, and went into his bedroom on the other side of the living room. Intrigued by the idea of a new room, Lisa followed, and was pleased to find that his bedroom also had a wall made of windows. Jackson had walked through a door to his bathroom before she came in, so she sat down on a white chair that served as a little reading area if the month-old newspapers were being truthful.

'Leese.'

She got up and walked into the bathroom. Jackson was in front of an open closet that was filled with suits but leaning against the stainless steel of his bathroom counter.

'Could you pick something for me?' he asked, motioning to the closet.

She stared at the contents. 'Don't you have anything that isn't a suit?'

He looked at the closet quickly. 'Obviously not.'

As Lisa began scanning the closet, she noticed out of the corner of her eye that Jackson was taking his jacket off. He threw it in a container in the corner of the closet before taking off his shirt, giving it the same look he gave it at the hospital, and dropping it in the refuse bin. She tried to study his scars in her peripheral vision, but when he seemed to realise she was looking at him, he gave her a straight gaze before unbuttoning the waistband of his slacks. As he unzipped his fly, she pulled out a random suit and held it out to him.

'That one?'

She nodded briskly. 'Yeah, this one's good.'

She heard the sound of fabric hitting the ground and Jackson dropping the slacks into the hamper. 'Hang it on the back of the door then.'

Lisa turned and walked over to the door, sliding it closed and pulling down a collapsible hook to hang the suit on. She stayed perfectly still as she heard him continuing to undress and had her hand on the door to exit when he spoke again.

'Care for a shower, Leese?' he asked as he took off his other sock and threw it in the hamper with its mate. 'Or perhaps a bath?'

Although she was uncomfortable with the thought at first, she closed the door back and turned around to look at him standing there in his boxers. She took a few steps forward and then stopped. Her hands—shaking from excitement or fear, she wasn't sure—unbuttoned the first button of her blouse before Jackson came over and held her hands.

'Stop,' he said smoothly, that haunting softness that she associated with the discovery of her scar echoed in his look. 'I don't want you to be uncomfortable.'

Her throat was dry when she spoke. 'I'm not uncomfortable.'

He let go of her right hand and ran his fingers through her tangled hair as he scanned her face. As she calmed down, she stopped shaking and he finally seemed to accept her response. He took a half step closer to her and reached up to gently unbutton her shirt. His hands were soft as the joints of his fingers jostled lightly against her breasts and stomach. Once all of the buttons were undone, he brushed his fingers up the length of her torso and took hold of the collar of her blouse, slipping it carefully off of her shoulders. It slipped down her arms and he took it in one hand before bending down to kiss her lightly on the scar. He threw the blouse into the hamper with his suit and then turned back to her as she undid the button at the waist of her jeans and slowly unzipped the fly. His thumbs hooked into the waistband and he kissed her deeply before kissing her on the chin, at the articulation of her collarbone, just above her breasts, over her belly button, and stopping just at the top of her panties as he pulled her jeans down.

She stepped out of the jeans and watched the smooth movement he performed to cast the clothing into the hamper. Warmth spread slowly through her body as he turned to face her, his blue eyes smouldering with some mixture of love and desire she'd never witnessed before. His hands reached out to take the straps of her bra on top of his index fingers as they kissed once more, passion overflowing. He slipped the silky pieces down her shoulders before dropping his hands to rub the curve of her waist and up her spine before deftly unclasping her bra. Her hands, which had found their way up and into his hair, fell to her sides and the article dropped onto the floor and was quickly kicked away by Jackson. She moaned into their kiss as her bare flesh touched his, feeling electricity at the contact.

When their kiss broke, he walked over to the bath, keeping contact with her until her hand fell out of his grip and dropped to her side. He turned the faucets and water came pouring from a waterfall-like spigot in the wall. His hands ran under the stream, adjusting the water until it seemed comfortable, and then he came back to her. He ran his wet fingers slowly down her spine with a bit of a smirk, making shivers run through her body and her nipples stand erect. With the smirk still on his face, he laid his hands on her hips and kissed down her jaw-line before dropping his face and lightly tugging at her nipples with his teeth. Her hands immediately found their way to his upper back, where she dug her nails into his skin, inciting a low growl from him.

His eyes flickered over when he heard the sound of the sok bath beginning to overflow. The steamy water spilled over the smooth sides of the tub and dropped down into another tub it fit inside of, the cycling aided by a set of jets that had just started bubbling. In the lapse, her nipple had dropped from his mouth, and she took the moment to drop down to her knees, pulling down his boxers as something primal took hold of her. Her tongue flicked at his erect member, teasing him. After giving him a scandalous look, her lips sealed around and she began pressing her tongue and dragging her teeth along the length of the shaft. His fingers curled in her hair and he moaned deeply before speaking.

'No,' he said, sounding out of breath.

She stopped immediately and looked up at him with longing eyes, her lips swollen from their kissing. He beckoned her up, and as she stood, he kicked his boxers over with her bra. Smiling, she quickly took off her lacy panties and threw them over on top of his boxers. Finally completely disrobed, they stood for a long moment looking at each other up and down before Jackson walked over to turn the faucet off. He dipped his fingertips in the water.

'Top or bottom?'

She only considered it for a split second. 'Top.'

'A woman after my own heart,' he said with a devious smile as he slowly got into the tub.

Once he was settled, he held out a hand for her, which she grabbed a hold of. Her toes dipped hesitantly into the water a couple of times before she finally slid her leg in, and then the other. She stood straddling him as he looked up at her with a serene and calming expression. Slowly, she lowered herself onto him as he supported her, and once they'd become one, her breath became more ragged as the same desire that smouldered in his eyes invaded her entire being and she began rocking rhythmically against him. His hands rested on her hips as she closed her eyes, and with a smirk on his face, he took one hand and slid it over to the crux between them, quickly finding her clitoris and immediately teasing Lisa up to the next level. Her mouth hung open, her arousal so mind-numbing that she couldn't collect the air to even scream out; her arms raised above her head and she caught her fingers in her hair as the pressure built deep in her stomach.

At that moment, she looked more beautiful to him than she ever had before, and that beauty was amplified as her lips finally articulated a word. '_Jackson_...!'

They climaxed at the same moment as if it had been a well-rehearsed action between the two of them. She collapsed against his chest, her hands finding his and weaving into them. He kissed her head over and over again as she nuzzled against him. He broke the union of her hands and put his on her back, drawing her closer against him, and held her there with his arms wrapped around her. Her arms slipped up to wrap around his neck, and it was at that moment that Jackson gruffly whispered the words Lisa never expected to hear again.

'Thanks for the quickie.'


	10. 4 October 2005

Five days later, a Monday, the Reiserts and Jackson sat across the desk of Howard Clark, a criminal defence lawyer. Mr Clark was poring over the documents given to him by Joe, his thumb resting on his chin with his index finger curled up against his lip. The atmosphere in the room grew more and more tense with each tick of the clock, and it wasn't long until Jackson, who sat as emotionlessly as ever as he stared at the lawyer, felt Lisa's hand slip into his. Without a change in expression, his eyes flicked over to hers for a moment and he squeezed her hand.

'You've being tried for solicitation of murder and conspiracy to commit murder by the state of Florida,' said Mr Clark. 'In addition, you have the charge of arson against you by Lux Atlantic Resorts. That one shouldn't be hard to get rid of though, as you were not the one actually firing the incendiary device.'

The lawyer flipped a few pages.

'As for solicitation and conspiracy...' he sighed. 'Solicitation would involve Miss Lisa here, and I don't think it applies much to your case as Miss Lisa didn't file any charges against you, which leaves conspiracy to commit murder. Now I'm not going to lie to you, Mr Rippner, if found guilty of this crime, there can be an incredibly stiff penalty allotted to you.'

Jackson simply nodded to the lawyer.

'Now, if you can maybe... testify against the people who hired you for this assignment...'

'I'm not prepared to make the decision regarding that at this point.'

In his peripheral vision, he saw Lisa's shoulders slump and her hand grew clammy in his. Joe reached over and rubbed his daughter's arm.

'Jackson, it's going to be better for everyone if you just admit who you worked for and take a lesser sentence,' Joe said with a harsh tone. 'Look at what you're doing to Lisa.'

Jackson pursed his lips and looked at the woman sitting next to him. For the last couple of days, she'd looked ashen. When he'd wake up at sunrise, she'd already be out of bed, wrapped in his robe and looking blankly out at the ocean from the bedroom. He was pretty sure she hadn't eaten but three or four meals altogether over the weekend, and those 'meals' had consisted of popcorn, scrambled eggs or cold PopTarts. Whenever she took a shower, she'd stay in there for at least forty-five minutes, and even over the sound of the water, he could hear her crying. And, she didn't know it, but every time she rushed to the bathroom in the middle of the night to throw up, he stood by the door, wishing that she'd have woken him up to comfort her.

In pained him to see her like this. 'I think it might be better for her in the long run if I left my employer out of this.'

Lisa started crying quietly and Joe turned to Mr Clark. 'Howard, surely there's another option here.'

'Joe, if I knew another way, I'd tell you, you know that,' the man replied, looking sadly at Lisa. 'But this is the decision that Mr Rippner needs to make: either take the chance that he won't be convicted by a jury of his peers or accept a lesser sentence after testifying against the other unknown people involved.'

---

'Why do you have to be so God-damned impossible?'

Jackson sat on the bed, propped up on the pillows watching calmly as Lisa paced back and forth wearing a burgundy nightgown. He had already taken his contacts out and was wearing a pair of black-rimmed glasses to read the newspaper, which now saw unread in his lap. 'Come on, Leese, get in bed.'

'Why can't you just submit a plea bargain? Why are you risking this?'

He took the bridge of his nose and squeezed it between his thumb and middle finger as he scrunched up his face. She continued going back and forth with an arm across her chest and a hand in her hair, silent tears running down her face. Suddenly she stopped and put both hands to her face, sobbing uncontrollably. He watched her slight figure shake and was about to say something when she started hyperventilating and ran into the bathroom. It took him only a split second to follow her this time—he got to her just in time to hold her hair back as she threw up bile. Once she rested her chin on the seat, he twisted her hair back and then stood to get her a glass of water and a wet towel. When he handed her the glass, she took a sip and sloshed it around in her mouth before spitting it out and reaching up weakly to flush the toilet. He took the glass back from her and set it on the ground before helping her to her feet and supporting her as she walked to the bed.

'Leese, this is ludicrous. You have to stop doing this to yourself,' he murmured as she settled. He sat beside her on the bed with his left hand propping him up on the other side of her and started patting the cool cloth to her forehead. 'I know what I'm doing, and nothing bad is going to happen.'

'They're going to take you away from me,' she said in a choked voice as tears kept falling down the sides of her face.

'No, shh...' he whispered as he shook his head, rubbing away the tears with the cloth as he wondered if she really _did_ have Stockholm sydrome. 'I'm not going to leave you.'

He looked into her tear-intensified green eyes with a little smile before bending down and lightly kissing her on the forehead. After pulling the sheets up to her waist, he went back into the bathroom and Lisa could hear him cleaning the washcloth and glass. In a few minutes he came back out and walked around to his side of the bed. She watched him intently as he stood in the pale light of the mahogany lamp by the bedside. He ran a pale hand through his dark hair before slipping his glasses off of his face and laying them on the silver side table beside an old-fashioned silver alarm clock, a myriad of orange prescription bottles and a glass. Picking them each up in turn, he finally held one and opened it, letting a tiny white pill slip into his hand.

'Take this,' he commanded, holding out the pill and the glass of water.

She hesitated before scooting across the king-size bed, taking the pill from him, and drinking some of the water. After taking the glass back from her, he took the eight or nine pills he took every evening, keeping his eyes on her as he did so. Once the glass was empty, he set it down and turned off the lamp before crawling into bed beside her. He pulled the covers higher on both of them as she moved closer to him, and she was surprised as he slipped an arm under her and pulled her in to curl up to him, the silk of her nightgown against his bare chest.

'Stop worrying about me and just worry about yourself, Leese,' he said into her hair. 'I can take care of myself. I've had close calls all the time—that's just part of the job.'

Lisa felt her eyes growing heavy as the Ambien he gave her started making its way into her system. Her toes curled in the crisp cotton of the sheets as he rubbed her back absentmindedly, willing her off to sleep. Within a few minutes, she'd drifted off, leaving Jackson alone staring into the darkness of the room, musing.


	11. 5 October 2005

A/N: Gah, the NaNoWriMo. I'm loving writing this new story though, yaaaay. Change of topic, in a few hours, Bellamy, my Golden Retriever, has his screening to be accepted into training for the Delta Society, the national organisation for therapy dogs. Squee! Wish him luck!

---

When Jackson woke up to his alarm clock the next morning, he was pleased to find that for once, Lisa was still asleep and curled up next to him. He snaked out from under her, holding her head up before softly laying it down on the pillow. A neutral look came over his face as he brushed her hair out of her face and pulled the covers up before looking out across the room to the ocean, which was churning under cloudy skies. He sighed a bit as he rubbed the back of his head, suddenly doubting this whole sequence of events, but the moment passed and he stalked into the bathroom to take a shower.

After thirty minutes, he came out of the bathroom fully dressed and was stunned to find Lisa still asleep in the same position he left her in. He quickly ran a comb through his wet hair before running his hand over his freshly shaved chin and turning to go over to Lisa. Sitting beside her, he ran the backs of his fingers across her cheek, pausing as he realised how hot her cheeks were.

'Leese, wake up. You need to get dressed so we can go to the arraignment.'

Her eyes cracked open.

'Come on, we need to be across the city in an hour,' he said as he pulled the sheets off of her.

'Jackson,' she murmured. 'I don't feel good.'

'It's just nerves,' he said with a strained smile. 'Nothing's going to happen today; they're just reading what I'm going on trial for.'

She scrunched up her face as he pulled her out of bed by her arms. After standing for a moment, shewalked unsteadily to the bathroom. He heard the shower turn on and went to the kitchen to start coffee for them to take with them.

---

Just about forty minutes later, the garage under Jackson's building opened as his black Audi TT Roadster came squealing out onto the road. On Jackson's advice, Lisa had tied a shawl around her head to keep her hair in place because, he told her, it was a rare day when he actually drove his car without the roof down. Although she clung for dear life to whatever she could get her hands on, Jackson seemed completely at ease—when didn't he?—and actually noticeably happy as he relaxed in the driver's seat. As they took a sharp corner, Lisa reached down and held on to the travel mugs that held their coffee before yelling at Jackson to slow down.

'Relax,' he replied smugly. 'By this point in our relationship, the car and I have become extensions of one another.'

'You're so cocky!'

'Of course,' he said with a smirk. 'How else could I have afforded this car and the swanky condominium you've invaded?'

His foot let off of the gas pedal a bit as they entered downtown Miami and the rush of morning traffic. Luckily, with Jackson living in an area of Miami reserved almost exclusively for wealthy vacationers, not many people were coming from the same direction as them, so they made it to the courthouse in good time. They parked in the garage next to the courthouse and walked in together, Lisa with Jackson's hand planted uncomfortably on her lower back. Mr Clark and Joe were waiting for them in the lobby, and soon all four of them were led to the courtroom where the proceedings were to take place. As they walked through the large wooden doors, Elisabeth Millwood was being walked out of the back to the detention centre adjacent to the courts.

Jackson and Howard took their places at the desk to the judge's right with Lisa and Joe sitting right behind them. With a bang of his gavel, the judge called the court to session.

'Case number F8994-2381b, the State of Florida versus Jackson Alexander Rippner. Would the prosecution please read its prepared statement.'

The lawyer at the other table, who was sitting with a representative from the state, stood with a legal pad in his hands.

'On 27 August 2005, Jackson Rippner took Lisa Henrietta Reisert hostage on a flight from Dallas, Texas to Miami, Florida. During said flight, Mr Rippner coerced Ms Reisert into changing the room of Mr Charles Keefe, Deputy Director of Homeland Security, from a room facing downtown Miami to one that faced out onto the ocean and would make it easier for a group of four men to launch a missile and assassinate Director Keefe and his family. Ms Reisert was warned that if she did not go along with Mr Rippner's demands, a hitman, identified at the Dade County morgue as Mr Ian Dower of Miami, would kill her father, Mr Joseph Reisert.

'Ms Reisert changed Director Keefe's room, but once the plane landed in Miami, she was able to escape Mr Rippner's custody and quickly alerted the Lux Atlantic Resort of the impending attack, therefore saving the lives of the entire Keefe family. She was also able to save her father despite being followed back to her father's home and attacked by Mr Rippner.

'It is the determination of the prosecution after discussions that we wish to indict Mr Rippner for the crime of conspiracy to commit murder and the solicitation of murder.'

'The court accepts the indictment of conspiracy to commit murder. How do you plea, Mr Rippner?' asked the judge over half-moon glasses.

'Not guilty,' he said in a dark voice.

'In light of this plea, a full trial is to be set for two weeks from this date. At the request of the defence, rather than being put into detention, Mr Rippner will be put under house arrest and fitted with a tracking device. If at any time he should leave the premises of his home, he will be brought into police custody and remain there until which time he is tried for the crime of conspiracy to commit murder.'

The judge slammed his gavel down and court was dismissed.

---

By Friday, Lisa had decided that she didn't want to pay the rent on her own apartment anymore, so she showed up after her first full day back at work with boxes of stuff and a very pissed-off cat. Jackson looked over his newspaper every time she came up from the garage with a new set of boxes, but he stood up and dropped the paper on the couch when Lisa opened the cat carrier and let the white cat jump onto the floor and start smelling her way around.

'What is _that_?' he asked pointedly, giving her a dark look.

'My cat Alfie. And before you say a word, she's front declawed.'

'Wh—what about her back claws? She can still shred things with her back claws!' he said, his voice raising in pitch with every word. 'You can't have a cat.'

Her eyebrows raised dangerously. 'Excuse me?'

'You can't—' Jackson stopped to scoop up the cat, who was slinking her way around his ankles. 'You can't have a cat. Cats are dirty animals.'

'They are not! She cleans herself and is always good about using the toilet. The _real_ toilet. You'll never have to do anything.'

Jackson held the cat out in front of him and looked into its gold eyes. 'It doesn't matter if she uses the _real_ toilet or not, she'll still smell horrible. I pride myself on keeping an extremely—'

'Sterile home?' she interrupted, crossing her arms.

'Exactly,' he said, dropping the cat onto the floor and watching with utter distaste as she started rubbing against all of his furniture.

'She has white fur, Jackson. All of your furniture is white.'

'Her fur will get into the food.'

'Oh please,' Lisa replied, rolling her eyes. 'Alfie is staying here.'

'_Alfie_ is going to your father's house.'

'Oh, and who is going to take her? You? Be my fucking guest, Jackson,' she continued, oblivious to his change in temper. 'Go on. Go down to the garage, get in your little sporty car and go on up to my Dad's house. How far do you think you'll get before the tracking device goes off on your ankle?'

His retaliation was swift. He crossed the room in a couple of fast strides and in an instant had her up against the wall by her throat. Completely caught off guard, and having already taken her shoes off, Lisa just hung there as his raged, shaking hands kept her pinned to the wall. She gasped for breath as his face contorted to the same bitter one he'd given her in the aeroplane lavatory; she reached up with shaking hands to try and loosen his grip, and as she did that, his grip went suddenly lax and he stared at her without a bit of emotion as she slid down the wall and into the soft carpet. After backing up a couple of steps, he slowly walked to the bedroom and slammed the door, locking it behind him. Once she'd caught her breath, Lisa looked at the closed door with wide eyes.

---

By the time the lock clicked and the door slipped open, it was already Saturday morning. Jackson made his quiet way out of the bedroom and closed the door back behind him, and was nearly in the kitchen before he heard Lisa's voice speaking quietly on the phone. With narrowed eyes, he slipped into the kitchen and stood to watch her from the kitchen counter as she spoke on her mobile phone in the dining room with her back to him.

'Don't you think I've thought of that?' she hissed before listening to the person on the other end. 'If I thought of the danger, do you think I'd be in this predicament?'

Her face moved from behind her hand to look at the window ahead of her and she suddenly snapped around to look at Jackson, who was standing menacingly in the dark of the kitchen, his face tense. She stood gaping until he could hear the female on the other end frantically twittering.

'... what? Oh, Cynthia, I'm fine,' Lisa said, keeping her eyes on Jackson. 'Listen, we'll talk tomorrow, okay? Good night.'

Once she'd given her farewells, she dropped the cell phone on the glass table next to an empty glass and a half-eaten bowl of noodles.

'Airing out the dirty laundry in front of the neighbours?' he sneered.

The dirty look was shot back in kind.

Her face remained stern as she looked at him carefully. His temper was flaring up again and he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck prickling as he grabbed the edge of the countertop. Although her outer self seemed to be unafraid of what he might do, her actions deceived her as she curled her fingers around the fork that lay next to her bowl. It seemed that a battle of the fates was about to break out, but rather than breaking out and attacking her again, Jackson slammed his fist on the counter so that everything on it shook. Lisa jumped back and the fork fell off of the table, clattering on the marble floor as she put her hand to her lips, her eyes closed. The refrigerator opened and when Lisa looked again, Jackson had come into the room and now leaned against the wall, drinking out of the milk carton.

'I didn't tell Cynthia.'

His look from behind the milk carton was one of doubt.

'I swear to you, I didn't tell anyone,' said Lisa as she leaned forward. 'I won't tell anyone.'

The milk carton paused, perched on the edge of his lip. 'This isn't a prison, Lisa.'

As silence filled the room, Jackson walked back around into the kitchen and she heard the fridge opening and closing once more.

'Where's Alfie?' came his voice from the other side of the wall.

'I took her to my Dad's house,' Lisa said quietly. 'After talking to my Mom, I thought it...' she paused for a long moment. 'I thought Alfie would be a stupid point of contention between us.'

Jackson's eyebrow was raised when he came back around to her. He scrutinised her features as he walked over, and although she recoiled at first, he was able to gather her into his arms. 'There's something you're not telling me, Leese.'

She shook her head hesitantly. 'No, there's nothing—'

When he pulled her closer, she tensed up, expecting him to hurt her again, but he just buried his face in her hair. After a few minutes, they went into the bedroom.


	12. 18 October 2005

A/N: Aww, for the first time since the night Jackson died, all our cats are allowed to be in my room! It's so nice to have my Little Man, Little Girl, Boo and Jyou in my room. I don't really care about my sister's cat Suki coming up because... well, I hate that cat... but whatever. If she wants to come up and glare at me and not let me touch her, bollocks to her.

---

During the two weeks of Jackson's house arrest, they fell into a routine. At six in the morning, Lisa woke up and took a shower whilst Jackson made coffee, and while he took a shower, she got dressed. They ate breakfast together, Jackson reading the newspaper in his robe with his glasses on and Lisa dressed to the teeth for work. He took his coffee black; she took it with cream and a spoonful of sugar. When seven-thirty rolled around, she cleared the table and he put the dishes in the dishwasher, and at seven-forty, she gave him a kiss on the cheek as she got in the lift. He'd watch as his Audi speed off in the direction of the Lux Atlantic before going back to his newspaper.

His day was filled with a lot of TV and reading, hers full of angry customers and pained feet. When the doors of the elevator opened at six-thirty, she'd disappear immediately into the bathroom after kissing his forehead and come back to the living room dressed in a camisole and pyjama pants to curl up with him as he watched television.

One day, the 18th of October according to the report of Fox News that she breezed by, she came back with an intense look on her face. After slipping her high heels off, she went to the bathroom as always, but this time she paid him no attention and didn't even bother putting her purse on the table next to the door in her hurry to get there. He raised an eyebrow at her, but coverage of his impending trial, which was scheduled for the next day, piqued his interest more than his upset lover. Soon, however, the story changed to something in football, and then to something about flooding in New England and a series of other reports until the telecast had ended. Looking over at the place she usually curled up, he sighed at himself for caring before walking into the bedroom and staring at the closed door.

He rapped on the door. 'Leese?'

There was a flurry of movement before Lisa spoke in a half-calm voice, but he could tell she'd been crying. 'Ye—yeah, what is it, Jackson?'

'Are you all right?' he asked, trying to open the door and finding it locked. His voice took a menacing tone. 'Lisa, open the door.'

Silence was the reply before the sound of Lisa's footfalls came closer to the door. When the door opened, he looked into her mascara-stained face before reaching up and brushing away a tear.

'What's wrong?'

'It's nothing,' she said as she tried to summon a smile.

It was at that moment that he noticed her arms were behind her back, and he looked into the mirror to see that she held something in her hands. His eyes narrowed and he pushed her back into the bathroom, quickly pinning her onto the floor, but she kept her hands behind her back as fresh tears teased the rim of her eyes. He held her shoulders down as he straddled her.

'Lisa, what's in your hands?' he asked, raising his eyebrows as he looked at her condescendingly. 'Why don't you give it to me?'

Shaking her head viciously, she closed her eyes. 'No, Jackson, it's nothing.'

'If it's nothing,' he said, bending close to her face so that she could feel his breath against her cheek as he focused his weight on her clavicle. 'Then why won't you give it to me?'

Her tenseness gave way as she rolled her head to the side and began sobbing. He got onto his knees and lifted her up a bit to loosen her arms and bring them in front of her. It took him only a few seconds to pry open her pale hand, and once he did, he held the object in front of him. A flicker of rage crossed his face as he walked over to the trashcan and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. He looked between the object and the paper before dropping his hands onto the bathroom counter and leaning forward.

'When did you think you'd tell me?'

She didn't answer, so he dropped the things in the sink and turned back to her, walking over and pulling her roughly to her feet. Her legs gave away almost immediately and he had to lace his arm around her waist to keep her from falling.

_'When did you think you'd tell me_?' he repeated, shaking her as he clenched his teeth.

'I wasn't going to!' she said forcefully, pushing away from him.

He gaped for a moment. 'What do you mean you weren't going to?'

'I wasn't going to tell you,' she said as she held the sides of her head and stepped back, only to slip on the rug and fall to her knees. 'I... I was going to go tomorrow and—'

He ran a hand through his hair with his eyes closed, shifting from side to side with the other hand on his hip as he collected himself. 'Leese...'

'I'll go tomorrow and we can pretend this never happened,' Lisa whispered as she curled up against the cabinet under the sink, her eyebrows raised and a strained smile on her face as she stared into the distance. 'We'll just move on from this like we move on from everything else.'

After taking a couple of deep breaths, Jackson dropped to his knees and crawled over to her, taking her in his arms, sitting down and pulling her into his lap. She pressed her forehead against his cheek and held her hand against his stubbly chin as he wrapped her arms around her and rocked slightly as he shushed her. Once her breathing came back to normal, he nuzzled against her and pressed gossamer kisses all over her face.

'I never mean to hurt you,' he murmured into her hair. 'I don't like hurting you.'

'Let's just go to bed,' she replied. 'We have an early day tomorrow.'

She wove her way out of his arms and walked to the closet. Before standing, he watched from the floor as she undressed and changed into her favourite camisole and a pair of his boxers. As she dropped her white dress into the hamper, he came up behind her and laced his arms around her, but she squirmed away from him before his lips could touch her neck. She stalked out of the room and he could hear her settle on the bed. Casting his emotionless look after her, he grumbled and changed into his pyjama pants before following her, intent on taking his pillow and sleeping out on the couch, but any rage remaining at her coldness evaporated when he looked over at her.

Lisa laid on the bed, her camisole rolled up to just under her breasts and his boxers pushed down to her hipbones. Her face was bent down to look at her hand, which was lying on her stomach, the thumb brushing her skin lightly. He stood motionlessly, confused and not knowing exactly how to respond to her. Over the last ten years, he'd been faced with many situations. He'd lived with more than a few women, pretending to be their lover, so he was well practised in domesticity and dealing with the problems that came up, but nothing had gone as far as they had with Lisa. In prior instances, he'd been very strict about separating business and personal life, even going so far as arranging for sex doubles with women who actually managed to arouse him. The double would take care of the dirty deed, and then he'd watch his doppelganger disappear over the side of the balcony as he stood smoking a cigarette.

But looking at Lisa, he had the sudden realisation that for this moment, he'd have to actually drop his logical ways and respond to his emotional side. He moved awkwardly towards her and sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching over haltingly to lay his hand atop hers. In response, she reached out to rest her hand on his thigh and as their eyes met, he flashed her the same smile that she'd fallen in love with at the airport.

'I'm happy, I promise.'

The mask of her face cracked to reveal a smile. 'Really?'

He swallowed loudly. This was harder than he imagined. 'Really. It's just... not a logically sound time...'

She opened her mouth to speak, but he pressed his hand over her lips to silence her.

'But...' he continued. 'I'm still very pleased.'

When she laughed in response to him, he frowned, so she quickly explained herself. 'Look how awkward you are!'

'I don't think anyone should know,' he said, his face going from the frown to complete seriousness. 'At least not until we get this legal mess sorted out.'


	13. 23 October 2005

A/N: Mrgh, a day late in updating, sorry! I have been unbelievably sick ..

---

By the time the court recessed for lunch, the jury had been informed of the details of the case by the prosecution and defence. During the entire proceedings, Jackson had remained cool despite the seemingly incredible odds against him, and once they were released for the hour, he found his way directly to Lisa, placed his hand on her lower back, and guided her out of the courtroom before anyone else managed to make it to the atrium. Hiding in a recess where a payphone used to be, he put his hands on either side of her and leaned forward to speak to her in a rough whisper.

'Leese, I know you have a lot of emotions going through you right now, but crying when they're talking about what happened on the plane doesn't paint me in a good light,' he said quickly. 'You really need to try to choose better times to cry, especially when you get up to the stand.'

'I'm sorry, Jackson... I'm just—'

'Don't worry about me, I already told you that,' he interrupted before leaning to her ear. 'I have everything under control.'

'There you two are,' came Joe's voice behind them. 'Howard and I were going to go across the street to pick up lunch.'

---

In the afternoon, a variety of witnesses were called by both sides. The more general witnesses, like night nurses from the first couple of days Lisa spent at Mercy or the first police officer to arrive on the scene of Jackson's shooting, were reserved for the first day of testimony. As the case went on, expert witnesses would be called, but today the closest witness called was Lisa herself, a request from her father to Mr Clark to help Lisa calm down for the rest of the trial.

There was a fleeting look of panic that crossed Lisa's face as Howard Clark took his seat after questioning and prosecutor David Allegheny began walking to the stand. During the recess earlier in the day, her father and Mr Clark had discussed Allegheny's interrogation-like questioning style and both were seemingly oblivious to how it scared her to hear that after Jackson's warning to her in the atrium. When the prosecutor got close enough, she swore she could see a dark glint in his eyes and was suddenly determined to not let him get the best of her.

'Miss Reisert, what is your relationship to the defendant?'

Lisa paused for a long moment as she stared into Jackson's eyes. 'His abductee.'

'And yet, despite your abduction and subsequent assault, you failed to press charges against Mr Rippner,' the prosecutor said, raising his eyebrows. 'Do you care to explain to the court why you didn't press charges?'

'Mr Rippner was hospitalised after an assault by myself and my father,' she explained. 'I didn't feel threatened by him, and I don't think that he's a dangerous person.'

'And what would make you feel that way?'

'I'm not sure. It's just a gut instinct.'

'We have a sworn statement from an employee at the hospital in which you and Mr Rippner were institutionalised that says that you and Mr Rippner are currently in a relationship. Can you confirm or deny that statement?'

Her eyes scanned the room uncomfortably before clearing her throat. 'I... can confirm that statement.'

'And what is the extent of your relationship?'

'Objection, your Honour, I fail to see how this applies to the case,' Mr Clark said as Jackson leaned back in his chair.

'Objection sustained.'

Lisa visibly relaxed.

'Miss Reisert, the crime for which Mr Rippner is being indicted is the crime of conspiracy to commit murder,' the lawyer said, pacing in front of the stand. 'It was testified by police investigators earlier in the day that you killed one of Mr Rippner's conspirators and another was Elisabeth Annette Millwood, who is being tried separately from Mr Rippner. Do you know of any other members in this said conspiracy?'

'I don't know any names,' Lisa said, her eyes trained on the pacing lawyer. 'But I know that Jackson... Mr Rippner works for some organisation that arranges for high-profile assassinations and government overthrows.'

'And what proof do you have of this?'

'He told me, and he never lies.'

The lawyer raised an eyebrow. 'He never lies?'

'No, he never lies.'

The lawyer gave her a cold smile. 'Now, Miss Reisert, an employee of Mercy Hospital testified that it was believed that you had Stockholm syndrome. Do you believe that this may affect your testimony?'

'No, because I was never diagnosed, and the rarity of the condition makes it difficult to apply to my testimony,' she snapped, surprised at how succinct her answer was.

'That's all, your Honour.'

And thus, the first day of Jackson Rippner's trial ended.

---

By Sunday, it just seemed like the prosecution was drawing out the trial. They called endless witnesses on Friday and Saturday, and by the time court was adjourned on Saturday afternoon, all Jackson and Lisa did when they got back to the condo was change into pyjamas and fall asleep on the couch watching some B movie Lisa had turned on right in the middle of the climax. Sunday was like any other Sunday for them, an abbreviated version of a weekday wherein Lisa didn't have to go to work. They'd do laundry, or clean the condo, or just sit around and read. That Sunday, however, marked the first day that Lisa's father was going to be coming to the condo for dinner, so it was definitely one of the days when Jackson felt inclined to clean, being the more fastidious of the two.

It was also that day that Lisa realised it was hard to remember what it was like to be his captive when he was looking like an idiot whilst trimming his nose hairs.

When Joe arrived that night, Jackson typed in the codes to let him in as Lisa finished tying back her hair. From the moment Joe stepped out of the elevator, he seemed generally impressed with the place and any doubt remaining in his mind about Jackson's ability to care for his only child slipped away. As the sun went down, they sat down for dinner in the dining room, which overlooked the beach. Snippets of conversation took place, but most of the time, the room was filled with the clinking of silverware against china or the ding of glass on glass.

Of course, Joe had to be the one to ask the mood-breaker of the night. 'So, Jackson, when do you plan on making my daughter an honest woman?'

'Dad!'

'When the trial is over,' Jackson said, not missing a beat.

'Ah, good, good,' Joe replied as though Jackson had said something as mundane as 'I believe the sun will rise tomorrow.' 'Because, you know, with Lisa's slight figure, she'll begin showing very soon.'

'That's true,' Lisa said and then put a hand over her mouth before looking from her salmon to her father.

Jackson simply took a sip of his wine before looking between Lisa and her father.

'How far along are you, honey?' Joe asked, setting down his fork on his plate.

'A month this Friday,' Lisa replied. 'Dad, how did you know?'

'How often do you turn down merlot in favour of grapefruit juice?' he said with a smile. 'Have you been to see Dr Evans yet?'

Lisa grimaced internally at the thought of her OB-GYN. 'No, we just found out on Tuesday.'

'Your mother would be very upset with you, Lisa,' her father replied sternly. 'I'm sure Jackson wouldn't mind if you missed the trial tomorrow to go to the doctor.'

Joe looked at Jackson, who simply shrugged before standing to walk over and grab the half-full bottle of wine and a decanter full of grapefruit juice from the counter. After refilling everyone's glasses, he set the containers on a dishcloth he'd set in the centre of the table. As Jackson began eating his dinner again, Joe cleared his throat and spoke.

'How do you feel about this, Jackson?'

'I'm very excited about it.'

'You don't seem very—ouch!' Joe shot a look at his daughter.

Shaking her head, Lisa took her foot off of her father's and quickly shot a smile at Jackson, who returned with a stoic face. Joe frowned at them and continued eating his dinner, sneaking glances at Lisa every now and then. Once they'd finished, Lisa volunteered to clear the table, so the men went out to the balcony. As Jackson closed the sliding glass door, Joe walked to the railing and looked over to the ocean.

'Do you mind?'

Joe turned to look at Jackson as he took a cigarette out of a pack on a table next to the door. He shook his head and watched as Jackson put the cigarette between the lips, lighting the tip with a Zippo from his pocket, and then set the lighter down on the table. After taking a long drag off of the cigarette, Jackson walked over to stand next to Joe, leaning against the rail. When he exhaled the smoke, it drifted off in the light ocean wind. Holding the cigarette between his index and middle finger, Jackson pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and ring finger.

Joe picked up the pack of cigarettes and pulled one out for himself then lit it before returning to lean against the railing with Jackson. The younger man still had his ossa faciei and ossa nasalia squeezed firmly between his fingers, and Joe watched him for a moment before blowing the smoke out into the open air. Dull clinking inside the glass door told them that Lisa had started piling plates on the counter, so Joe decided to be the first to speak.

'Smoke often?'

Dropping his hand over the railing, Jackson looked at him lazily and then stared out at the ocean. 'Every now and then.'

'Yeah, I smoked until Carol got pregnant with Lisa,' Joe said, stopping to take a drag at the cigarette. 'When we separated, I started up again.'

'It's a dirty habit,' Jackson said in a half voice. 'But sometimes, you just need it.'

Nodding, the older man tapped his cigarette on the railing and the ashes floated slowly away; nothing else needed to be said between the two of them. The only sound was the roll of the ocean twenty-seven floors below them before the door rolled open and Lisa stepped out, walking over to the right side of Jackson. He looked over at her and they quickly kissed before she laced her arm through his.

Taking one final drag at his cigarette, Joe put it out in the ashtray on the table and looked at Jackson and Lisa's backs. 'Well, I need to get going.'

Lisa turned her head to look at her father as Jackson took his arm out of hers and walked over to put in cigarette out next to Joe's. He reached out and took Lisa's hand and all three walked back into the condo and to the elevator. As they waited for the lift to return from the garage, Joe took Lisa in his arms and held her tightly as he rested his chin on top of her head.

'Lisa, honey, please call Dr Evans tomorrow, okay?'

From against his chest, she nodded. 'Don't worry, Dad. I'm not careless.'

When the elevator chimed, Joe let go of his daughter and took a step over to Jackson. He held out his hand to the blue-eyed man and Jackson took a firm hold of it and they shook. 'Thank you for having me over tonight, both of you.'

With that, he got into the elevator and waved as the doors closed.


	14. 24 October 2005

A/N: WELL. I have infectious mononucleosis. As you can imagine, this has made me just WILDLY popular with EVERYONE. My family has already marked containers that I've had drinks out of (for example, the pineapple juice and apple cider), segregated my foodstuffs, changed all my bedroom sheets, and given me the command to kiss no one in the family on the lips, and that includes avoiding kissing the tops of the cats' heads because other people do that. I now spend my days doing spurts of work between long naps. I feel oh so accomplished, woo.

---

'Lisa?'

The brunette looked up from the three-month-old _People_ that she'd been reading and smiled at the nurse, who led her back to an examination room. The room was bright and sterile like Jackson's condo, but unlike her new home, it was cold, smelled of antiseptic and moaned with the sound of machinery. After taking her shoes off, Lisa sat down on the paper-covered examination table as the nurse opened her file and looked it over.

'Okay, it's been...' the nurse flipped a page. 'Four months since your last appointment. And what are you here to see Dr Evans for today?'

'An ultrasound,' Lisa replied with a little smile.

The nurse nodded. 'When was the first day of your last period?'

'God, I…' she murmured, rolling her eyes to look at the ceiling in thought. 'The sixteenth of September?'

'And last day of intercourse?'

Lisa considered the question for the moment. 'Last night.'

'Have you taken a home pregnancy test?'

'Yes, and the result was positive.'

The nurse scribbled notes on Lisa's file before opening the cabinet and pulling out a cotton examination gown and blanket. After setting them on the chair in the corner of the room, the nurse smiled at her and held the manila folder against her chest.

'Dr Evans will be with you in a few minutes,' the woman said as she laid her hand on the doorknob. 'Please put on the examination gown. You can use the blanket to keep your legs warm.'

Once the door closed, Lisa went over to the chair and changed into the gown, folding her clothes up and putting them in a pile where the gown had been. After picking up the blanket, she crawled back up on the table and lay down, pulling the blanket over herself as she pressed her head back into the pillow. The clock ticked away five and then ten minutes before there was a knock at the door and Dr Evans appeared in the room. The middle-aged woman smiled at Lisa.

'How are you today, Lisa?' she asked in a maternal voice as she looked down at the file, pressing a hand to her chest. 'An ultrasound... ah, it seems like only yesterday that you were here for your first pelvic examination!'

Laughing uncomfortably, Lisa stared back up at the ceiling and remembered why she didn't like coming to the gynecologist. Cold hands rolled the cotton up from Lisa's abdomen and tucked the blanket down under her hips. Lisa focused on the dimples on the ceiling tiles as Dr Evans started pressing below her belly button, and after a minute or so, Dr Evans turned to pull a tube of gel from the cabinet, squirting it onto her stomach before turning a machine on. When the machine warmed up and the monitor flickered on, the doctor pressed the probe against her stomach.

'Stretch your arms above your head please.'

Lisa reached up and put her hands behind her head. The gel warmed up quickly as the doctor ran the probe over it, and after a few minutes of staring at the screen in front of her, Dr Evans pointed to a dark blur.

'There's your baby.'

Looking at the screen, Lisa imagined that Jackson wouldn't be too impressed, but looking at the little black blob made her chest tighten with happiness. After Lisa had taken a long look with her hand over her mouth, Dr Evans switched off the display and rolled over to the counter, handing Lisa a paper towel to wipe the gel off. As Lisa sat up, the doctor looked over the information that her patient had given to the nurse.

'Okay,' the woman said, tapping a pen against her bottom lip. 'I'd like a follow-up appointment for you on the 9th of December, which should be around the time when your second trimester begins. At that appointment, we'll do a lot more tests and you'll probably be able to hear the baby's heartbeat. You're probably due sometime near the end of June.'

As Lisa rolled the hospital gown back down, she saw Dr Evans' eyes snap to her left hand ring finger and then back to her notes.

'Is there any chance that the baby's father could come to the appointment?' she asked hesitantly.

Lisa froze. 'I... I don't know—'

Dr Evans seemed flustered. 'I'm sorry, I—'

'No, no, it's all right,' Lisa said with reddened cheeks as she slipped off the table and let the gown fall back down to her knees. 'Jackson, he's very iffy about some things. I'll try to convince him though.'

The doctor nodded, obviously relieved. 'I'll see you in about seven weeks then. Take care of yourself and eat well. The nurse will be back in a minute to take you up front so you can make your next appointment.'

Once Dr Evans left the room, Lisa got back into the business suit she dressed in for the day, and after she'd made the appointment, she went out to Jackson's car and drove to the courthouse.

---

She was able to sneak into the back of the room during the prosecution's closing comments. Sitting on the very last bench, she could just see the back of Jackson's head through the crowd of people who came to view the public trial. Mr Allegheny paced in front of the jury box, speaking heatedly at the odd group of people, and although Lisa was getting nervous at his words (and she could see that Mr Clark was too as he loosened his collar), Jackson never even turned his head to watch the prosecutor. Once the pacing man finally finished, the judge looked at the room.

'If there are no further comments, the jury is dismissed to deliberate.'

Lisa watched as Jackson finally turned his head to give a knowing glance at the lead juror. The jury filed out of the courtroom before everyone in the room stood and started talking amongst themselves. With a confused look on her face, Lisa made her way to stand by her father in the front row just behind Jackson.

'Hi Dad,' she said, throwing her arms around her father.

'Lisa!' He squeezed her tightly. 'What did your doctor say?'

Her eyes flittered to Mr Clark's and then Jackson's faces before she spoke quietly. 'I'm due at the end of June.'

'You're pregnant?' Mr Clark asked in a whisper, looking at Jackson after he spoke and slapping the thin man on the back. 'Congratulations, both of you!'

Jackson simply gave a light, fleeting smile to Mr Clark, but when he looked at Lisa, his eyes spoke volumes more that she knew he couldn't share in their current location. However, he reached over and took her chin in his hand, pulling her closer as he leaned over the wooden railing separating them. Their lips locked for only a moment, but it was enough for both of them. With his hand still perched under her chin, Jackson turned around with a raised eyebrow as the door to the jury chambers opened and the panel spilled back out into the jury box.

'That was fast...' Howard Clark said, narrowing his eyes at Jackson for a brief instant.

The judge also seemed caught off-guard, but he quickly called the court back to order. After everyone had settled, he spoke. 'Jury, how do you rule?'

'In the case of the State of Florida versus Jackson Rippner, we find the defendant not guilty.'

There was a sudden, feverish murmur of voices. A couple of reporters stood in the crowd and took tape for the evening news as people started leaving the court with stern looks on their faces. The prosecutor glared over at Jackson as Howard Clark threw his arms around his client, and Jackson returned in kind to the man, which made Allegheny snap his briefcase closed and leave the room in a huff. Once Mr Clark let go of Jackson, Joe pat the younger man on the back and moved over to speak to Howard, leaving Lisa standing in front of Jackson.

'I told you not to worry,' he said, something hidden in his voice.

'What did you _do_?' Lisa asked in a harsh whisper, leaning closer to him.

'That's not for here,' Jackson replied sleekly as he leaned forward to meet her, reaching up to tuck a stray hair back behind her ear.

She furrowed her brow at him, but he just laughed a little, bending forward and giving her a nip on the earlobe. Startled, she gasped and he curled around to kiss her deeply with his hand on her waist, holding up a hand in front of their facial profile as a newspaper photographer came over and started snapping pictures.

---

It was almost five hours later when the last person left the condominium. All of Lisa's friends had shown up to congratulate Jackson on the outcome of the case, and there was much drinking and laughing. A few people had been curious about Lisa's straightedge stance throughout the night, but once her father had had a few too many drinks, there was no more question in their minds. He stood on Jackson's stainless steel coffee table and announced to the entire party that he was going to be a grandfather. The people all crowded around Lisa and Jackson, who had been innocuously sitting in the corner, and Jackson figured that was about the time to go out for a smoke. Lisa had been left alone with the party, but once she was able to round up the other sober people, pass out shoes and arrange for rides home, she joined Jackson out on the balcony.

'Hey.'

Jackson was reclined in a plush outdoor chaise lounge, his spent cigarette still smoking in the ashtray. When she spoke, he patted his leg and she came over to settle in his lap.

'How did you do it?'

His serious face broke and he gave her a smile as he rubbed the small of her back. 'Do what?'

'Rig the jury,' she said sharply.

'You make it sound so terrible.'

'Well, it _is_ incredibly illegal.'

He made a questioning noise and pouted at her. 'Didn't you want me to stay with you and the baby rather than go to jail?'

His inclusion of 'the baby' made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside, but she had a feeling he was just trying to get on her good side. 'Yes, but—'

'They had all the evidence they needed to convict me of conspiracy,' he murmured as he shifted his legs under her. 'And I had some unreturned favours.'

'I thought the organisation wanted you dead.'

'But I never told you that. You made that up yourself,' Jackson replied as he rested his head back on the chair. 'On the contrary, after ten years of impeccable service, they owed me a lot. One mistake isn't enough to hang your best.'

'Jackson!' she said, exasperated. 'If they find out—'

'They won't.'

She pressed her lips together tightly and looked at him sternly. 'And how are you so sure of that?'

'Because _every single person_ who was involved in that trial works for the organisation. The judge, the prosecutor, the stenographer, the bailiff, everyone.'

She just stared at him.

'I'm not going to leave you,' he said, looking her straight in the eyes. 'I've stolen you and you're mine. I don't give up my possessions lightly.'

He started fiddling with her left hand, and when she looked down at it, he'd slipped a simple platinum band around her ring finger. After a moment, she looked up, feeling like she should have more of a reaction to being so suddenly engaged, but really she wasn't excited at all. Being with Jackson was a constant battle, and to her, after all they'd been through together, marriage was just a formality. The rings would be, like he said, a marking of possession, like a more socially acceptable version of the bruising bite he gave her the second time they'd had sex or the deep nail scratches she'd given him on his back at the same time. He pressed a matching ring in her hand and she slipped it onto his ring finger.

'Now you're mine also,' she murmured, weaving her fingers in his. 'And even though this is enough for you and me, my parents and the county would probably appreciate a little more validity.'

Jackson was quiet for a moment. 'The 26th of November.'

Tipping her head back, she looked at him with her eyebrows pinched together. 'Specific.'

His gaze out towards the ocean didn't waver as he swallowed. 'The day I killed my parents.'


	15. 18 November 2005

A/N: If anyone can read French, I highly recommend the book _Un certain sourire_ by Françoise Sagan. There's a translation available, but you know how it is... the translation's never as good as the original.

In completely unrelated news, as our house renovation continues, I've been moved from my happy little room on the third floor to basically a plywood box on the second floor. There is nothing but one board separating me from my parents' room, and my Daddy snores. Mama always told me that she'd wake up when he snores, but considering his track record over the last couple of days, I'm in for a _wonderfully_ joyous couple of months. However, to keep me appeased, the dogs no longer sleep in their crate. Instead, the three of us make a huge dog pile on my bed. They are my pack and they know it. Alpha dog Allie XB!

---

Almost immediately, life went back to normal for Lisa and Jackson. For her, breakfast changed from a cherry PopTart to cereal and fruit, coffee to orange juice, and high-heels to sensible flats. As he read the newspaper, she read a how-to book on pregnancy, interrupting the soft murmur of the television in the background every now and then to read a passage from it that he appeared to not hear. When breakfast was over, he left his glasses on and watched covertly as she cleared the table—she noticed that his eyes always rested on her stomach, which was slowly pulling her standard-issue Lux Atlantic white dress taut. Once she finished, he followed her into the kitchen and she'd watch him put the dishes in the dishwasher, sometimes leaning against the doorframe, sometimes resting her hand on her stomach.

At seven-thirty now, she'd walk to the elevator followed by Jackson, he'd hand her purse to her and tell her to drive safely, and she'd give him the normal kiss on the cheek as she backed into the lift. After watching his Audi drive off in the direction of the Lux Atlantic, he'd bypass the newspaper and pick up the book she had been reading, always keeping ahead of her by one chapter. When she came home at the end of the day, he'd have a bath drawn for her and would cook dinner so that it was ready when she came out wearing her normal pyjamas.

The Monday after a four-day weekend, the week before their wedding, she finished her shower and Jackson came in scratching his stubble. His eyes fell upon Lisa, who stood in her panties in front of the mirror, arms behind her head as she looked at the slight arch of her stomach with a little smile on her face. When she noticed him, she dropped her arms and smiled more at him before pulling out her freshly dry-cleaned work dress and unzipping it. He walked past her, brushing her arm as he passed before setting his glasses down on the counter and turning on the shower.

'Jackson...'

He turned to look at a blurry Lisa before feeling the counter and picking up his glasses. When she came into focus, she was standing with the back of her dress unzipped and her mouth open a bit.

'I can't... can you try to zip this?'

Adjusting his glasses, he walked over to her and held the foot of the zipper as he tried to inch up the pull. After a centimetre or so, the zipper stuck and wouldn't go up any further. He pulled it back down and dropped his lips to the nape of her neck, running his hands up her back and under the sleeves under her dress. Slowly, he rolled the sleeves down her arms as he kissed across her shoulders. The dress fell to the ground as he gnawed lightly at the connection of her neck and shoulder, and for the first time, he ran the palms of his hands over her womb gently. Her head pressed back against him and she kissed along his jaw line as her hands fell over his.

The room was already filling with steam from the shower when he took hold of her and turned her around, pressing her lower back so that he could feel her stomach against his. Lisa's arms wrapped around his neck and she laid her head against his chest; she lived for the little moments like this that happened between them, the Jackson that no one else ever saw. As he buried his nose in her damp hair, he realised that she'd used his shampoo that morning.

When she looked up at him, the lenses of his glasses had steamed up and she broke the moment with a little laugh. 'Jack, I need to call work and tell them I can't come in today.'

She hadn't realised that she used the shortened form of his name and just plucked the glasses off of his face, walked over to the counter, and opened a drawer to pull out a lens cleaning cloth. Walking past him, she gave him a quick kiss as she started wiping off the lenses of his glasses and left the bathroom, humming as she left, and once she disappeared into the bedroom, he was surprised to find himself humming the same song.

---

'Have you told your…' started the psychologist, giving a little laugh. 'I'm sorry, I can't believe you… your _wife_ about the possibility of Hezbollah taking revenge on you?'

Closing his eyes, Jackson put a hand to his face and leaned back in the leather armchair, not bothering to correct the man about the fact that Lisa was still _technically_ his fiancée. Dr Philip Greene sat in front of him, his legs crossed to support Jackson's file as he took notes. The curtains in the room were drawn closed and the only light was the one coming off of Dr Greene's desk; it was the only when the lighting was like this that Jackson would speak to his psychiatrist, a habit left over from when he was a young child at Rockland. The dim light cast long shadows across the ceiling as Jackson leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

'No, she doesn't know,' he said softly. 'But she _did_ think that Matthias was going to try to have me killed.'

The doctor raised his eyebrows. 'You lied to her?'

'She just hasn't asked,' he replied honestly. 'Like I said, she thought that the Society was going to kill me, but she's never asked anything about my former customers.'

'Don't you think it would be better to tell her?'

'No,' Jackson said sternly. 'She thinks well on her feet, but when given a probability, she'll panic, and now is not a time that I want her to panic.'

'And why is that? You seemed to enjoy inciting panic just a few months ago.'

Jackson clenched his jaw. 'I'm not in the business anymore, Phil. I've been working on "readjusting my outlook."'

'Do you find this to be a difficult transition?'

'Incredibly,' the younger man said, falling back into the armchair again. 'I can't remember a time when I still allowed myself to get close to people—trying to slip into that state of mind is completely against my way of thinking.'

'You find it illogical,' his doctor said.

'Yes.'

Dr Greene nodded, writing down a few notes. 'Have you thought that maybe now that you're retired you should refer less to logic and go more with your gut feelings?'

'You make it sound so easy.'

The doctor chuckled a bit. 'I think you should consider going into a new career because living life as a normal person will help you think like one. If you just sit around in your condominium all day waiting for your wife to come home, you're going to drive yourself crazy. Tell me again, in what disciplines do you hold degrees?'

'A Bachelors in business and Arabic, and a Masters in management.'

'You shouldn't have any problem getting a job as a business...' the doctor's voice drifted off. 'I don't suppose you want to be a businessman though, do you Jackson?'

Hesitating, Jackson closed his blue eyes and turned his head. 'I'm trying to move on from all of that.'

'Well then,' Phil replied, clapping his hands together. 'If you're willing to work on this... I think you should get a job as a businessman, work on being more affectionate towards your wife both in public _and_ in private, and try to be less intimidating. I've overseen a good number of character developments for you over the years, and I know that you can at least _fake_ normalcy.'

When Dr Greene leaned forward, Jackson furrowed his brow and leaned in to meet him.

'There have been murmurs in the organisation about Hezbollah tailing you,' Dr Greene said as he looked darkly at Jackson. 'I think you should vary your schedule a bit and work near your wife's hotel in case they decide to strike there. I don't know when or where or even if they'll do anything, but I know that since the failure of your mission, Hezbollah's American communications have at least tripled.'

Jackson's eyes narrowed. 'Why wasn't I informed?'

'You're no longer in the organisation and you used all of your pay-backs for that farce of a court trial,' Phil said, giving him a stern look.

'Shit,' he said, running a hand through his hair. 'Can't Matthias—'

Phil stared at Jackson, unaccustomed to seeing the former assassination manager flustered by anything. 'What have you failed to tell me, Jackson?'

'I've made another mistake,' Jackson replied, avoiding eye contact with him. 'I've become very vulnerable. _Lisa_ has made me become very vulnerable.'

'I don't think you have to worry about your wife being vulnerable. She's a good choice for an assassin's wife.'

He took a long sigh before looking back at Dr Greene. 'She's almost three months pregnant.'

There was a long moment where Dr Greene just stared at him. 'Jesus, Jackson.'

There was a knock on the door and both of them looked up as Greene's secretary walked in.

'Your next appointment is here, Dr Greene,' the suit-clad woman said. 'And Mr Rippner, Intelligence is ready to meet you to complete your resignation.'

'Good luck, Jackson.'

The leather creaked as Jackson stood, not giving another glance to Phil. He followed the woman, who had her hair cut in a strict black bob, out the door to a very neutral hallway. The tapping of her heels on the linoleum lulled him into autopilot, and before he knew it, she had led him to a small, dark room that was empty except for a chair in the centre with a window directly in front of it. After he sat in the chair, she placed a bag he'd brought with him next to his chair. She backed out of the room and he heard the door lock as a garbled voice came through the speakers.

'Please state your name, birth date, birthplace and current city of residence.'

'Jackson Rippner; 13 March 1977; Albany, New York; Miami, Florida.'

'Please state the reason for this interview.'

'Resignation from the Society.'

'And your reason for resignation, please.'

'In the modern world, there is no reason for middlemen in terrorism, nor is there any need for special knowledge to participate in government overthrows or assassination.'

Jackson heard the man on the other side typing. 'Our records show that you have eight active alternate identities. Have you brought all identification for these aliases?'

After disappearing from the man's line of sight for a moment, Jackson sat up straight with the bag in his lap. The sound of the bag unzipping echoed from the walls of the compact room and then Jackson carefully laid out every passport, driver's license, birth certificate, et cetera. Once Jackson seemed pleased with the display, the man spoke once more.

'We'll do this in alphabetical order by country. When I give you the name, please slip all papers through the deposit slot under the window. Canada. Enon, Andrew.'

Blue eyes scanned the table until he found a passport with a blue cover that had an ornate silver shield on it. Under it, there was a student identification, a driver's license, a car registration, and a few other things like university grades. He slipped them through the deposit and could hear them being shredded. The man went through every one of his carefully planned identities: a Czech doctor named Tomas Chytilov, a German entrepreneur named Karl Mueller, an Irish lawyer named Colin Reilly, a Peruvian government employee named Julio Bendelek, a Russian policeman named Alexei Femerov, and a South African graduate student named Daniel Plaatje. He was about to slip the last documents through when the slot closed with a snap. Holding the passport, he looked at the glass.

'You forgot one,' he said, pressing the passport against the glass as his other hand clung to the documents in his lap.

'The patron has requested that identity remain in action.'

Jackson narrowed his eyes. 'Open the slot. I'm not going to—'

'We need you to sign these papers, Mr Rippner,' said the voice, completely ignoring Jackson's attempted debate.

A stack of papers slipped out of the deposit drawer under the window and Jackson pulled them out, not taking his eyes off of the glass until it was apparent that the man wasn't going to go against the request of the patron. Grumbling, he looked over the papers before he started signing each one. Basically, it was a huge waiver that said he would not try to contact anyone within the organisation, would never speak of the organisation, and would not affiliate with other like-minded organisations. He was more than happy to oblige, and once he'd gone through all that, he dropped the stack back into the drawer and it disappeared.

'Thank you for your ten years of valuable service, and we wish you luck on your independent life. From this point on, the organisation offers you no protection.'

'Right…' he muttered, flipping through the passport's pages with his thumb.

---

Thanksgiving came and went without too much ado. A small dinner at the condo with Joe, calling Carol and confirming her arrival the next day, general straightening of the area, and times when Jackson would receive phone calls and disappear for long periods. Joe slept in the guest room so they could all go early the next morning to pick up Carol at the airport, which was closer to the condo than it was to Joe's house. When the morning came, Jackson and Lisa did their morning thing, leaving Joe feeling like a third wheel, but rather than dressing for work, his daughter wore a casual empire-waist sundress.

They took Joe's car and within twenty minutes were parking in the short-term garage. Lisa looked at the arrival screen with Jackson holding her around the waist protectively, perhaps thinking about when she got away from her last time in that exact place. Once Lisa found the baggage claim her mother's flight was using, they went en masse to the claim, both of the men pressing Lisa to get off her feet once they got there. She just stared at them before leaning against a pillar.

A big rush of people came down the escalator as the Dallas flight deplaned, and with the recognition only possessed by someone's child, Lisa identified her mother in the thick of it, waving her arm widely. 'Mom!'

Carol looked around before finding her daughter and waving back with a smile. She broke through the crowd at the bottom of the escalator and almost made it to her daughter before putting a hand to her mouth, her eyes tearing up. Lisa stood with her hand held loosely by Jackson and smiled coyly.

'Oh, Lisa!' her mother said, rushing forward to put her arms around her daughter and Jackson. She leaned back and rubbed her hand lightly over Lisa's stomach. 'Sweetheart, why didn't you tell me?'

'Dad thought it would be a better surprise,' Lisa said as she looked over at her dad to smile.

The alarms on the bag carousel went off and the throng of people crushed against it, all looking for their black rolling bags. After the same bags went by four times, Carol finally pointed out an old, beat-up looking brown leather bag and Jackson picked it up, being the bellhop and gentleman. As they walked to the car, Carol chatted animatedly with her daughter about the happiness and pitfalls of pregnancy with their family's genes whilst the men walked a few steps behind, both pretending to be blissfully ignorant.

After getting into Joe's car and breaking away from the airport traffic, they drove to an intimate Thai restaurant almost directly between the condo and Joe's house. They settled around a circular table and ordered quickly, Carol's family eager to catch her up on the last couple of months in Miami. As they talked quietly, Jackson found himself scanning the restaurant. Since his discussion with Phil three days earlier, he'd been paranoid about any place he took Lisa. He felt like he recognised everyone everywhere and it terrified him. The man who had once been practically invincible was now like a crippled bird staring at the darkness around him, expecting a black cat to leap out at him.

And it was when he looked to the bar that his paranoia seemed to be confirmed.

A Middle Eastern man sat looking at their table, hidden partially by a tall, shapely woman who sat on the stool next to him. He had no drink, and the look in his eyes was one Jackson recognised in himself whenever he caught himself in a mirror during pre-assignment stalking. He knew this man, he was sure of it, from one of the meetings between himself and his former customer. During the entire meeting, he'd stood on the right hand side of Hassan Nasrallah, holding a menacing looking machine gun. He'd thought the cocky man annoying when he first met him, but now as the man started smirking at him, he began recognising him as an honest threat.

Jackson made a move to stand but stopped when Lisa's hand fell over his. He looked at her worried glance quickly, and by the time he looked back to the bar, the man was gone.

'Jackson, what's wrong?'

He clenched and unclenched his jaw before turning back to her, trying to appear relaxed. 'It's nothing you have to worry about, Lisa. I just thought I saw someone I knew.'

By the look in her eyes, he knew she understood, but she didn't let anything on to her parents. 'So, Mom, Jackson's been setting up interviews for new jobs.'

'That's wonderful. Where are you thinking about working?'

He was in the middle of taking a long swig of his cocktail, so Lisa answered for him, still holding worriedly onto his hand. 'The Lux Atlantic has invested in a new real estate project in Dubai and they're interested in having Jackson being in charge of the project.'

'Won't you have to be in Dubai a lot?' Joe asked.

'That's a really dangerous part of the world to be travelling to right now, don't you think?' Carol added, and the worried parents looked between their daughter and her fiancé.

Jackson set his empty cocktail glass down and watched the waitress take it away before speaking. 'The project's in its very early stages. I'd need to go over there to arrange a Dubai management team and watch them for a week or so, but then I'll handle most of the project from Miami.'

'He'd go to Dubai every couple of months for a few days to check how the hotel's progressing.'

The table went silent as a couple of waitresses came over carrying the trays with their dinners.


	16. 26 November 2005

A/N: Almost the end of the term... almost the end of the term... only a couple more weeks... not too long until escaping to the vacation home... mrrrrrrggghhh...

---

Neither of them wanted to be married in a church, nor in the courthouse, nor at the beach, nor at home. Eventually they agreed on a small park on the outskirts of Miami and a guest list of only three people: her parents and Cynthia. It was a warm day in Miami, which was not surprising even at the end of November, and so the three guests were dressed in light fabrics, sitting on a couple of benches in the grove as they watched the bride and groom. Jackson was wearing a typical black suit with a grey button-down shirt and holding Lisa's hands as she said her vows with her eyes trained perfectly on his face. A light breeze came through the grove, lifting the edge of Lisa's white chiffon dress a bit as she said the last part of her promises to Jackson. As Cynthia started sniffling, Jackson began his vows.

'I, Jackson Rippner, take you, Lisa Reisert, to be my friend, my lover, the mother of my children, and my wife. I will be yours in times of plenty and in times of want, in times of sickness and in times of health, in times of joy and in times of sorrow, in times of failure and in times of triumph. I promise to cherish and respect you, to care for and protect you, to comfort and encourage you, and stay with you for all eternity.'

As their rings had already been in place for almost a month, there really wasn't that much left to do.

'If anyone has any reason for why these two should not wed, speak now or forever hold your peace,' said the overseer of the ceremony. 'In that case, I present to you Mr and Mrs Jackson Rippner. You may kiss the bride.'

They leaned in and kissed relatively chastely as Cynthia and Carol held each other, crying, and Joe stared at the two women. Once their lips parted, Lisa left Jackson to go down to her family and best friend. Jackson shook the overseer's hand and took the certificate of marriage from him before the man left the family in the grove. As he watched the man leave, Jackson moved to take a step towards his new family when he suddenly felt uncomfortable. He paused mid-stride and looked at the trees behind him, but after a few seconds, he decided it was unwarranted paranoia and went over to the family.

Just beyond the edge of the trees, the man from the night before was walking on a trail leading towards the parking lot. Once he figured he was a safe distance from the clearing, he pulled out a micro-thin satellite mobile phone and pressed the auto-dial. A dull tone repeated itself over and over before a gruff voice answered.

'What is it, Nassoor? Do you have better information about Rippner?'

The man grinned; he knew that information like this was going to get him quite a pay increase. 'Rippner got married today and his new wife is pregnant.'

The man on the other end laughed mirthfully and Nassoor couldn't help but join him as he made it to his car, a nondescript BMW 740iL. He settled into the driver's seat, looking through tinted windows as the group from the clearing appeared in the parking lot. Jackson was looking around with narrowed eyes, which made Nassoor sink down, pushing his sunglasses up to cover his eyes completely. However, when Jackson's eyes rested on him through the windshield. Nassoor knew the former assassination manager had spotted him.

'I expect an update in a week with the layout of Rippner's apartment, his new wife's work schedule, and a confirmation of Rippner's new job. We're working on this end for him to get the position, and you better hope you're working just as hard as we are.'

'Yes sir,' Nassoor replied with a slightly dry throat as Jackson glared at him, held in place by his wife, who was speaking to her family before they all split ways. He snapped the phone shut.

When the car started, Jackson started walking towards him, dropping Lisa's hand as he sped up. Nassoor shook the gearshift as he pushed down the clutch, shifting into reverse. The engine roared in neutral before Nassoor got his wits together and released the parking break, pulling the gear shift down into reverse as Jackson reached the car and punched the windscreen with enough force to fill Nassoor's field of sight with cracked glass and blood. The Lebanese man slammed on the gas and sped backwards, slamming into a car behind him before speeding off. Enraged, Jackson picked himself off of the ground where he'd fallen after slipping off of the hood and ran over to his car, jumping in and quickly trying to catch up with the dark BMW.

As Jackson peeled into the road outside of the park, he heard horns blasting and rubber squealing on the pavement, but his entire focus was on the black car in front of him. The car merged onto the Interstate and Jackson immediately followed, more than ready to play a game of vehicular cat and mouse. They swerved in and out of traffic, Jackson greatly closing the distance between them with his highly developed driving skills. Once he'd come close enough to see the vague outline of the man's head in the tinted rear window, Jackson slammed the pedal to the floor of his Audi, bracing himself for impact.

Nassoor jolted forward as his car was shoved once, twice, three times by the Audi behind him. In his surprise, he lost control of the car momentarily and swerved into the next lane, sideswiping an SUV and glancing off of it to hit the median, causing Jackson to slam on his brakes, swerve over a couple of lanes, and speed past him. Holding a hand to his bleeding head, Nassoor looked up as Jackson's Audi made a sudden, sharp U-turn back around to him, avoiding every car coming his direction as he sped up to slam the BMW again. With wide eyes, the man undid his seatbelt and rolled into the passenger seat, breaking the window with his elbow and leaning out to start shooting at Jackson.

By this point, the Miami police had started piling onto the Interstate from both sides. Jackson's cell phone started playing Lisa's ring tone as bullets pierced the windshield of his car. Shocked, he swerved his car once more before he was able to slam into the passenger side of the BMW, making his car do a full circle before slamming into the median, landing perpendicular to the lane lines. There was the sound of crushing metal and smashing glass as Jackson's head was thrown back against the headrest before landing in the airbag. He heard someone walking on the smashed glass and fell back against the seat to look out across the Interstate. Seeing Nassoor moving slowly towards the car with his gun pulled, Jackson reached down and woozily undid his seatbelt before falling against the passenger seat and reaching to open the door.

As he opened the door, he heard a couple of gunshots pierce the driver's side door and then the huff of a tranquiliser dart cutting through the air. Jackson rolled partially out of the smashed car and onto the shattered glass that spread across the concrete, pushing himself up to stagger around the car to Nassoor's motionless body. Before the police were able to get to him, Jackson bent down, steadying himself on the man's chest, and started punching Nassoor's mercilessly. The head-rush caught up with him, however, and he fell backwards. Within moments, he was surrounded by police.

Jackson was still conscious when the ambulance arrived and was lazily answering questions with a brace around his neck when Lisa appeared over him. She followed the stretcher to the ambulance, and soon they were on their way to the hospital.

---

Two hours later, Lisa was surprised that not a single policeman had come to question her about her husband's behaviour. She sat in the waiting room of the public hospital with Carol and Joe on either side of her; Cynthia had to leave a half-hour earlier to work at the Lux.

'Mrs Rippner?' said a voice and Lisa looked up expecting a cop but saw a nurse instead. 'We need you to sign your husband's release papers.'

'Of course,' Lisa said steadily, standing up and walking over to the woman slowly, signing the paper once she got to the nurse's station. Another nurse led a crutch-using Jackson out to his family.

'Here are prescriptions for pain and antibiotics in case the cuts become infected,' the nurse said, handing Lisa a couple of slips of paper from under the paper Lisa had just signed. 'We were able to remove all of the glass and cleaned the burns from the airbag, but he's going to be kind of sore for the next few days because of the jolt from hitting the median.'

Lisa reached out to squeeze Jackson's arm, giving him a piteous look. Jackson didn't appear to care about the injuries, and rather looked quite bored.

'Just make sure he takes his medication, and force him to take it easy for the next few days,' she said with a smile. 'He seems like the overworking type. We went ahead and gave him the first dose of his painkiller—it should kick in within a few minutes.'

'Thank you,' Lisa replied as her parents went over to Jackson and started helping him out towards the car, leaving the crutches behind. Lisa followed.

In the car, no one spoke. When they drove by the scene of the accident, Joe opened his mouth to speak but was silenced by a dirty look from his ex-wife. Sometime during the drive, Jackson laid his head in Lisa's lap with a groan, so she absentmindedly ran her fingers through his hair with a slightly panicked look on her face. Who was that man Jackson tried to kill, and why did the police not question them about it? After all the extensive questioning following her rape and the explosion, she'd expected another immediate call from the Miami police department, but they hadn't even taken down their number or address.

Still curling her fingers in her husband's hair, Lisa leaned against the windowsill and watched the ocean go by. She knew her parents were looking back at her, but she was too preoccupied to care, and the only time she paid them any mind was when her father pulled into the garage at the base of their building.

'Lisa, are you sure you want to stay here?' asked her father, leaning into the backseat.

'It's my home now, Dad. Besides, if Jackson's going to be protecting me, it'd be better if he was in his house.'

Carol gave a questioning look at the man who was relaxing in Lisa's lap, but Joe seemed to understand his daughter's feeling on the situation. He turned off the car as Lisa helped Jackson up enough to throw his arm over Joe's shoulders when his father-in-law opened the door. The family walked to the elevator; Lisa inserted her key-card and typed in the code as her mother looked, amazed, at the ornate interior of the lift car. Jackson looked like he wanted to lean against Lisa more than her father. When the doors opened, Lisa moved to turn off the alarm as Joe took Jackson over to the couch.

'Leese,' Jackson murmured and she turned to see him patting the couch beside him. She gave him a pitying smile before walking over, sitting down, and lowering his head into her lap.

As her parents watched, Jackson turned around so that his face was towards Lisa. Nuzzling to her stomach, he smiled lazily as Lisa looked down at him, pushing his hair back from his face as he seemed to doze off. Once Jackson seemed settled and was snoring lightly, Joe set a hand on Lisa's shoulder.

'We're going to go back to my house. Set the alarm when we leave and, well, don't leave the house unless Jackson says it's all right.'

Lisa smiled. 'Don't worry, Dad.'

---

The newsroom of WSVN Channel 7 was abuzz with information regarding the odd traffic accident only seven hours earlier. Not enough facts had been available for the 6:00 news, but now, with the 10:00 news fast approaching, the panel of news-writers was trying to find the best way to type the story for the teleprompter. They had copies of the police reports from the scene, video from an amateur who had caught the entire crash, and pictures from the aftermath. A reporter was standing by on the overpass bridge at the scene and the people who handled remote feeds could hear her talking with the cameraman about a new restaurant she'd gone to. As the panel finished up their script for the anchors, the broadcast director put on his headphones and spoke to the newsroom.

'We go live in three... two... one.'

'Good evening, Miami. I'm Evan Anderson...'

'... and I'm Maria Gonzales. Tonight, our top story is an odd wreck that took place on I-75 South this afternoon at around three in the afternoon.'

The camera shifted slightly so a box could fit next to Maria on the screen.

'A Miami man, Jackson Rippner, known in the area for his supposed involvement in August's assassination attempt on Deputy Secretary of Homeland Security Charles Keefe, chased down wanted terrorist Abdul Nassoor. We go to Demeter Prasso for the full story.'

'Thanks Maria. I'm on I-75, and behind me you can see the police still have one lane cordoned off. At three o'clock, according to witnesses, Jackson Rippner of Coconut Grove approached Nassoor's car and punched the windshield. Once Nassoor drove off, Rippner left his wife Lisa, the head manager of the Lux Atlantic Resort, and her parents to chase Nassoor onto the Interstate. Rippner quickly caught up with him and rammed into the other man's car, leading to a spectacular wreck. We have video of the initial wreck, provided to WSVN by a family from Georgia who was visiting family in the Miami area.'

Back at the channel's headquarters, the director pushed play on the feed and on viewers' televisions across the area, a dramatic video of Jackson's Audi running into the back of Nassoor's BMW and the BMW slamming into the car of the people taping it played. When Jackson swerved around their SUV, the man taping it followed him until Jackson stopped a ways down the Interstate and started coming back. After bleeped-out, profuse cursing. the video stopped and Demeter Prasso's face came back on the screen.

'Once Mr Rippner turned around, he was on a collision course for Nassoor, but after being shot at, he swerved to miss the terrorist and smashed into the median separating the north- and south-bound lanes. Nassoor was tranquilised by the police and taken by ambulance from the scene, but unfortunately never arrived at the hospital and is still considered at large by the CIA and FBI. Although there was no solid information available on Mr Rippner in time for this broadcast, it is believed that he was treated and released from the hospital earlier this afternoon. Back to you, Maria and Evan.'

'Police are still interested in how Mr Rippner knew about Abdul Nassoor but are too involved in scouring the Miami area to interrogate Mr Rippner. When leaving the scene, it appeared that Mr Rippner had a bad concussion, so it may be awhile until the police get around to interviewing him about the accident, when they do, you'll hear it first here on channel seven!'

'If you have seen Abdul Nassoor, please contact the police immediately and do not approach him. Despite being injured in the wreck, he is considered armed and very dangerous.'

A clock on the wall counted down from fifteen seconds. 'What is the national weather service expecting from tropical storm Tammy? Find out after these messages.'

As the commercials started, Lisa pressed the mute button on the remote and looked down at Jackson, who was looking up at her from her lap.

'Why did you lie to me?' she asked, sounding hurt.

'I'd never lie to you,' he muttered.

'You said that the organisation didn't want you dead!' said Lisa, exasperated.

'This has nothing to do with the Society,' Jackson replied, giving her a cold look. 'Nassoor was one of the men on the boat from which the missile was fired during the Keefe incident; he works for Hezbollah, the people who hired me for the job.'

'Hezbollah?' Lisa asked, the fear very much apparent in her voice. 'You have an entire terrorist organisation after you?'

Jackson slowly sat up and pulled Lisa into his arms protectively, covering her stomach with his forearms. 'I don't want you to be scared or stressed about what I'm about to tell you.'

In response to Lisa's shaking, Jackson held her closer and pressed his nose to the nape of her neck. When she spoke, she was still shaking but something in her seemed strengthened. 'I won't panic.'

'I think Hezbollah going to try to attack me through you,' he murmured.

He was surprised that instead of tensing and jolting out of his arms, she just seemed resigned. 'So I'm your weakness.'

'You're not a weakness,' he said, unsure of the statement. 'You're more of a... _liability._'

'That's worst than a weakness,' she growled, reaching up to yank at his fringe roughly.

'Dammit, Lisa,' he said, slapping her hand away and pinning her arms to her sides as she tried to thrash around. 'A liability is better than a weakness because I feel the responsibility to protecting a liability. One only hides a weakness, trying to suppress it under layers. A liability is right up front where everyone can plainly see it.'

His wife considered this for a second before stopping her fight against his grip. He released her and she stood outlined by the television screen, hands on her hips. 'What does this mean about our lifestyle? How do things change now?'

'Well, I'm out of the organisation now, so I can't get you a watchdog,' he said dryly, rubbing the back of his head where it had hit the headrest. 'But I don't want you working nights anymore because there are too few people at the hotel. You need to be there when the place is buzzing with activity, and if I get the job at the Lux headquarters for the Dubai project, I'll be going to work just across the street from you, so we should drive together.'

'And when you go on business trips?'

Jackson was silent. He hadn't really considered the time he'd be away from the Miami area, so he just spouted the first thing to come to his head. 'You can stay with your father.'

'Oh no,' Lisa said in a warning tone, shaking her head. 'I'm not dragging my father into something else caused by you. If anything happened to him, I wouldn't be able to forgive myself... or _you_, for that matter.'

He went through several situations in his head: Cynthia staying with Lisa in the condo, Lisa staying at the Lux Atlantic for the duration of the trip, Lisa coming with him to Dubai...

'I can stay here by myself.'

Jackson's head snapped up and he gave her a dark look. 'No, you can't.'

She narrowed her eyes at him. 'I've beaten the crap out of you, I think I can handle my protection.'

'What about when you're seven months pregnant?' he retorted. 'Do you think you'll really be up to the task then? You're already clumsy enough without having your whole centre of gravity displaced.'

Looking up at her closely, he could tell she was fuming but wasn't sure if it was because of his snide comment about her ungraceful nature or the fact that he was right. They stared at each other for a few seconds before Lisa pulled back her fist and punched him right in the nose. Enraged, and with blood pouring down his face, he stood and glared at her, but she just smirked at him.

'You know you won't touch me,' she spat.

His face burned with barely concealed hate as he raised shaking hands up to her neck; for a moment she thought she'd underestimated his compassion for sadism, but just as she could feel the heat of his hands ringing around her neck, he turned away from her with a growl. As he stormed into the kitchen, she released a breath she didn't even realise she'd been holding. A moment later she heard the faucet turn on and the sound of Jackson's hands splashing under the water. Pressing her hand harshly to her forehead, she followed him, pausing at the arch between living room and kitchen to watch him splash the water on his bloody face.

'I'm sorry,' she murmured as she hesitantly made her way toward him.

When she was a half step away from him, he raised his head from the sink and pressed a dishcloth to his nose. Making a pitying noise, she raised her hands to take the cloth from him and gingerly pinch just below the bridge of his nose. He took a hissing breath as she squeezed and dabbed at his nose.

'I don't think it's broken...' Lisa said, lightly brushing the bridge and having her hand thwapped away as she pressed a little harder. 'But I could be wrong. Let me get you some ice.'

As she pulled the dishtowel away, her eyes widened and she quickly put it back up against his nose, giving him an apologetic look as he took the cloth back. She opened the freezer with a blood-covered hand, filling a Ziploc with ice and wrapping it in a clean dishtowel, but when she turned back, Jackson was gone. Peeking around the half-wall separating the kitchen and dining room, she saw him sitting on a dining chair with his head tipped back. With a theatrical gasp, she ran out to him, hands on her hips.

'What are you doing?'

'Stopping the fucking thing from bleeding, Khan.'

'Don't tip your head back! You'll choke on the blood!' he gave her a disbelieving look. 'I'm serious! Do you know how many times I've been smacked in the face with a field hockey stick?'

Lisa checked the blood-flow again, clicking her tongue before pressing the cloth back on his nose.

'Come on, let's do this in the bathroom.'

She dragged him by the wrist into their bathroom, blood dripping haphazardly onto the white carpet as they went along. Once there, she opened the shower and sat him in one of the corners as she went over and started digging under the sink. Staring forward with half-closed eyes, he threw the bloody towel at the other wall of the glass shower and it slipped down, leaving a bright red streak and splattering more blood on him.

'Leese, I hate to say this, but I'm feeling... really woozy.'

Finding an ear syringe in the far back of the cabinet a moment later, Lisa turned back to see Jackson slumped against the glass wall, his shirt covered in blood. She quickly grabbed a warm cloth, some q-tips and cotton balls before striding over and bending down in front of her husband.

'Hey,' she said, setting down the supplies and tapping the side of his face. 'Stay with me, Jackson.'

His eyes opened and he blinked slowly as she began wiping the dried blood off of his face. There was still blood coming from his nose but it had slowed drastically, and after a minute of pinching under the bridge and holding an ice pack to his face, the flow finally stopped. After wiping the last bit of blood from under his nose, she squeezed down the ear syringe and stuck it up his nostril, causing him to start.

'This is embarrassing...' he said quietly as she sucked the remaining blood and clots out from the top of his nasal cavity.

'Try having it done in the middle of a game in front of your team mates _and_ the crowd.'

She sprayed the disgusting bloodiness onto the tiles next to Jackson and then cleaned the other nostril. Dropping the syringe, she rubbed the q-tip inside to clear out the rest of the blood and then crammed a cotton ball up each nostril.

'I hate you so much...' Jackson said slowly in a nasal voice that Lisa had to laugh at.

'Hold this,' Lisa replied, putting the ice pack against his nose and cheeks, which were starting to bruise.

As he held the ice pack, she unbuttoned his shirt and threw it on top of the bloody dishcloth in the corner. She took the washcloth she'd grabbed and ran it over his chest, cleaning the remaining blood off. With the same piteous look as before, she rubbed the side of his face before going over to the bath and turning it on. As it filled, she helped him to his feet and sat him on the edge of the tub leaning against the wall. Convinced the blood had congealed enough in his sinuses, Jackson dropped the ice pack onto the floor and undressed completely, glaring at his wife as she stared at his bruised face. His eyes didn't leave hers as he got into the bath.

'Domestic violence goes both ways,' he grumbled as he splashed a little of the water on his face.

'I can't always be the one slammed against the floor and strangled against the wall,' she said dryly as she walked over to turn off the spigot. 'Besides, I need to remind you every now and then who put you in the hospital following our initial rendezvous.'

Unconsciously, his hand flew to his throat where a shiny patch of pink skin was all that remained of her vicious pen stab.

'I'm going to get you some orange juice. Don't drown,' she mumbled as she walked out of the room.

Well, at least he was less worried about her wellbeing.


	17. 18 and 23 December 2005

A/N: Oh noeees, my car is in the shop! I cannot live without my mad-ass sound systemmmm!

---

'Front desk, this is Lisa speaking, how may I help you? Oh yes, of course Mrs Landon. No, I'll take care of making your reservation, it's all right. And what time would you like?'

Cynthia looked back at Lisa, who was sitting at her desk mostly hidden by a computer screen, but something told her that her co-worker was rolling her eyes. The electricians had been in early that morning to fix some problems with the lobby automatic lighting system and had ended up causing more problems by damaging part of the phone system. For the last three hours, whilst they waited for the phone company to arrive, people trying to ring the restaurant by pushing the button on their hotel phones instead were connected to the front desk. Lisa had a neat list of names, extensions, and times in front of her, but Cynthia realised as the hours dragged on that Lisa had started writing snarky comments about each caller next to their names on the ledger, something Cynthia rarely saw from her friend.

Lisa dropped the phone back into its cradle and sighed, dropping her head onto the desktop with a thud.

'Hey Lisa, do you want me to take that reservation list to the restaurant on my way out?' Sandra, one of the girls who worked in the hotel office, asked as she came out of the door behind Lisa.

'Oh, um...' Lisa looked down at her scrawled insults. 'I... I think I'll take care of it later. Thanks though.'

'No problem,' Sandra said with a knowing smile. 'I'll see you two tomorrow.'

Both watched as the short woman crossed the lobby before Cynthia spun around. 'Lisa, if you need to go home, I understand. I mean, you've been really busy recently and it's a mess here and I'm sure you have things you need to do and—'

'Cynthia!'

The redhead looked at her with wide eyes.

'I'm fine, really,' Lisa said, stretching. 'With Jackson out of town, I've just been a little on-edge and I'm not getting a whole lot of sleep. He'll be home on Friday and then the edginess will be shared again.'

Cynthia laughed a little and leaned against Lisa's desk. 'Have you heard from him since he left?'

'He called when he got to Dubai, but other than that, no,' replied Lisa with a little shrug at Cynthia's confused look. 'He's not one for pointless conversation making. As long as he doesn't get a call from Dad telling him I'm missing, he really doesn't have much to worry about, does he?'

Lisa looked down at her watch and realised it was time to make post-housekeeping rounds before check-in was scheduled to start. She yawned and stood, tapping the enter key on her computer before walking over to the printer to pick up the copy of rooms randomly selected for screening. By the time it finished printing, Cynthia was helping an irate customer who was complaining about the broken phone system, so Lisa just picked up her key card and cell phone then started walking over to the service elevator without a word. On the way, she straightened silk flowers and smiled at regulars, a couple of them asking about her recent wedding and the due date of her baby.

She was relieved to make it into the service elevator where no customers could talk to her, but as soon as the doors closed and she started going up to the top floor, her cell phone rang. She flipped it open without looking at the number. 'Lisa Rippner.'

'Mrs Rippner,' came a heavily accented voice through the cracking interference of an elevator call.

'I'm sorry, who is this?' Lisa said, covering the other ear and screwing her face up in concentration.

'I used to work with your husband.'

Her insides froze. 'Excuse me?'

'I would recommend—' popping covered up part of the statement. '—you—home—p—'

The elevator doors rolled open on the 40th floor and she ran down the hallway to 4080, which was in its final stages of rebuilding. After sliding her key card through the lock, she went to the balcony doors and pulled them open, stepping out onto the penthouse's patio.

'I'm sorry, could you say that again?'

At first, she thought the call had dropped, but then the woman spoke again, albeit hesitantly and in a softer voice. 'I would recommend staying at your hotel until your husband gets home from his business trip. It has been quiet since your wedding day, but Nassoor has been replaced and Hezbollah is _very_ unhappy.'

Lisa paced the length of the patio, looking out at the ocean with a worried look as a cool wind blew leftover sawdust from the construction site far up in the air. 'Is Jackson in danger?'

There was another pause, and she could tell the woman on the other end was trying to hide herself in a crowd somewhere. 'No.'

'Are you sure?'

'Positive,' the woman replied instantly.

'Did he tell you to call me?' Lisa asked the woman.

'No. He has no idea I am watching him,' she said, and then there was a click as the call disconnected.

Lisa stood listening to the silence coming from the receiver, her eyes glancing across the horizon. Her mind was racing at a mile a minute as she tried to figure out if she should call Jackson, rush downstairs and hide in the security offices, or just go about her normal business. In the past, her reaction to a threat would be to just ignore it and go about her day, but as she laid her hand on her stomach, she thought about the added risks. The woman only said that she should stay in the Lux Atlantic though. Did that mean that Hezbollah was unwilling to attack the Lux again?

Against her better judgement, Lisa flipped open her phone again and dialled Jackson's cell phone. It rang and rang, and she was about to give up when she heard his exhausted voice on the other end.

'Lisa.'

'Hi Jackson.'

'I'm really busy right now. What do you need?'

She thought about the woman who claimed she was watching her husband and considered that she may also be listening to Jackson's calls.

'Leese?' he asked, his voice holding a hint of tension. 'Has something happened?'

'N—no… ' she murmured, knowing full and well that Jackson could tell when she was lying. 'I just wanted to hear your voice. I'm looking forward to seeing you on Friday.'

There was a long pause. 'I'm looking forward to seeing you too.'

'I hope Dubai's treating you well.'

'It's very hot, but nice,' Jackson said awkwardly; she could tell that he was trying to find out the real reason why she called. 'I'll see you on Friday.'

'Friday,' she said weakly. 'I love you, Jackson.'

'I'll call you from a landline when I'm in London,' he said simply, and he closed his phone.

Jackson set his cell phone down on a pile of blueprints and twisted his wedding ring, looking around the dim office. He'd been using the same computer for eight hours straight, and with a sigh, he turned off the screen and scanned the tops of buildings edged in city light. No one stood in his sight, but there were people who were still in offices across the road from his building; he vaguely wondered if one of them had taken a job against him that Lisa somehow found out about.

'She doesn't have the connections,' he murmured to himself, rearranging papers on his desk a bit nervously.

---

At the end of the day, Lisa was unsure. Not being able to talk explicitly to her experienced husband, she wasn't sure if she should risk it and go home or stay in the room reserved for over-nighting employees. If she had erred on the side of safety, she'd have never warned Cynthia to evacuate the Keefes and most likely would have never seen her husband again. If she'd been ballsy from the beginning, however, her father would most likely be dead. There was an extremely thin line between over-reacting and unnecessary acts of cockiness, she came to realise in the last fifteen minutes of her shift.

'Is everything all right?' Cynthia asked her, and jumped when Lisa jumped.

'Sorry, sorry...' she said, looking around before leaning in towards Cynthia and speaking in a harsh whisper. 'I got a really weird phone call earlier from someone who said she used to work with Jackson. She told me not to leave the hotel.'

Cynthia's hands flew to her mouth and she gasped. 'Oh, Lisa, what are you going to do?'

'I called Jackson, but I think that the woman might have been listening to his phone calls, so I'm not sure what to do. I don't think the terrorist organisation would hit the Lux again, but I... I don't know. I'm... not good at this.'

'You've done this before.'

'That was different,' Lisa said with a heavy sigh. 'Jackson wasn't a terrorist. These people aren't as discriminating.'

'Please stay here,' Cynthia said, begging with her eyes. 'I'll stay with you.'

Lisa smiled, pulling her friend into a tight hug. 'I'll stay here.'

---

Five days later, an ashen Lisa Rippner stood in the lobby of Miami International Airport waiting for her husband's arrival on the red eye from London, remembering the last time she was a passenger into the airport. She felt just as uncomfortable now as she had when Jackson was chasing her with a gaping hole in his neck, but this time, she had no face to look for in a crowd, no clear blue eyes standing out to alert her of the impending danger. Every person that she found looking at her was a threat, and she found herself pointing towards an exit at all moments. With it being the day before Christmas Eve, there were thousands of people entering and exiting the busy airport, and the constant jostling was driving her mad. When someone suddenly grabbed her shoulder, she spun around with her hands in fists only to have the fist caught by a strong but soft hand.

'Oh God,' she said, relieved, as she collapsed against her husband.

Surprised, Jackson circled her waist with his arms and gave her a worried look. 'Leese, you look horrible.'

He felt terrible when she started sobbing against his chest, grasping tightly to the lapels of his suit jacket. Jackson looked around, holding his wife protectively as he tried to pick out people in the crowd. Keeping a tight grip on her, he led her out to the parking garage, rubbing the back of her head occasionally to try to calm her down. Once they got to Lisa's car, Jackson took her around to the passenger side, watching her get settled before putting his bags in the truck and giving the car a thorough once-over. When he determined it was free of explosive devices and hidden agents, he got into the driver's seat and locked the doors. He waited until they'd bypassed the parking station and merged onto the Interstate before speaking.

'What happened on Sunday night?'

'I got a call from a woman in Dubai.'

So he'd been right about her trying to warn him about someone watching him. 'What did she say?'

'For me to not leave the Lux until you got home because Nassoor had been replaced and Hezbollah was ready to start up again but with a much more sour outlook.'

'Did she say who she was?'

Lisa shook her head. 'She just said that she used to work with you.'

Jackson thought back across ten years of assignments as he shot down the Interstate. 'Did she have an accent or anything?'

'Yeah, a very heavy one,' Lisa said, laying her head back.

He could think of a handful of women he'd worked with, and each of them had such thick accents, they were almost indecipherable.

'Can you tell me anything else about her?' he asked, looking over at his wife. 'Was… did she sound like she was a native English speaker, or—'

'No,' replied Lisa. 'She had a really odd way of speaking. It was really unnatural.'

That absolutely narrowed it down for him, and the thought of that woman enraged him. He set his jaw, pinching his lips together. Lisa noticed his sudden iciness and reached over to take his hand before looking out the window. They spent the rest of the ride in silence, both thinking about the events of the two weeks they'd been apart.

When they reached home, they very quickly got Jackson's bags from the back before heading up to the condo. Once they got upstairs, Lisa seemed perfectly content to walk right in and relax, but Jackson hesitated by the door, which made his wife look back at him questioningly.

'What is it?' she murmured.

'When was the last time you were here?'

Lisa raised an eyebrow. 'Sunday morning, why?'

'Did the maid come on Monday?'

'I guess? I wasn't here, but she didn't call to tell me otherwise.'

She suddenly realised what Jackson was on edge about. Out of her peripheral vision, she could see that there was a thin metal rod sticking out of the now-defunct alarm panel. Looking down at the floor, she could see the faint outlines of boots going from the balcony to their room and around the living room. Everyone who came into their home knew that shoes were to be removed, and now Lisa could see the reason why. On the soft Belgium carpet, their bare feet didn't cause much fibre disturbance, but the boot marks were painfully obvious. Jackson slipped his shoes off and walked to the balcony doors, looking them over but obviously not finding whatever he wanted.

'They came to get our fingerprints for the new security system,' he said as she walked up beside him. 'And to get the layout of the condo.'

Lisa felt the same frozen sensation in her stomach that she'd felt when she got the call from the mystery woman in Dubai, but the cold feeling quickly turned into nausea and she ran to their bathroom followed by Jackson, who seemed to think there was still a chance that the perpetrator could be in their home. As she threw up, he stalked around the bathroom, checking every possible place someone could hide before getting her a glass of water and a cool cloth.

'They're not going to attack when you're here,' Lisa said after washing her mouth out.

Jackson dabbed at her forehead. 'I know, but the more time they have to dance around the fact of me being near you, the madder they're going to get. Something terrible is going to happen; it's inevitable.'

'You're not making me feel any better,' she said dryly, looking into Jackson's eyes.

'I didn't intend to,' he replied lightly, receiving a dark look from her. 'At this point in the game, I think it's better for you to know how dangerous this situation has the ability to become.'

'Game?'

'It's always been a game, Leese,' he said, standing and helping her to her feet.

'Ah,' she said sarcastically. 'I didn't realise the killing of innocents was a game.'

'Innocence is very relative,' he muttered in reply. 'Each side thinks the other side is the evil one.'

She watched his back as he left her and went to the closet. He undressed to his undershirt, boxers and argyle socks before turning to look at her. Her arms were crossed uncomfortably over her chest as she shifted back and forth and stared at him. His view dropped as he went over to the sink to brush his teeth. In his peripheral vision, he saw her slump a bit before changing into her pyjamas and joining him at the sink. Being avoidant, he immediately left the room and got into bed, followed by Lisa. For a few minutes, she watched him with her hands on her hips as he read a very beat-up copy of _Hostages to Fortune_. Finally, he spoke detachedly.

'Just get in the bed.'

'What are you reading?' Lisa asked. She was suppressing the urge to assault him as she slipped into bed, and her voice showed it.

'You wouldn't find it interesting,' he replied, putting an index card on the page he was reading and snapping it closed. 'It's a history of kidnapping. Goodnight, Lisa.'

He set his book on the nightstand and switched off the light, settling down on the bed again with his back to Lisa. With a downcast look, she slid down and shifted until she was comfortable, giving Jackson the same treatment. Once his breathing was even and deep, Lisa focused on the rhythmic sound and drifted off to sleep despite the nagging fear at the back on her mind.


	18. Mid January 2006

Cynthia Browning secretly hated the days that Lisa didn't come in. Soon after the Keefe incident, Cynthia had been promoted and although she wasn't anywhere near the level of Lisa, she still had a load of extra responsibilities heaped on her. For a girl who spent most of her childhood avoiding confrontations, she quickly realised she'd chosen a terrible profession. Day in and day out, all they ever seemed to have were snooty rich people, each of whom thought that he or she was better than the last snooty rich person, and they all expected tonnes of extra perks just because of the extra couple hundred dollars they paid per night that really just covered upkeep and those fancy, high thread count linens they all slept on in their rooms. She could feel her natural Midwestern charm and tolerance slipping away a little with each customer she pretended to like, and it was absolutely no surprise to her that Lisa had a breakdown a few months prior.

It was nearly three in the morning when Cynthia heard the click as the coffee machine finished percolating her pot. After scanning the lobby and seeing no one other than the stragglers at the bar, she nipped over and poured herself a big mug full, looking up as the front doors of the hotel opened and a tall man walked in with a rolling bag and his blazer over his arm. Sighing into the mug, she returned to behind the counter and downed as much of the coffee as she could before he reached her. He laid his blazer on the counter before pulling a tightly folded reservation confirmation from his back pocket and smiling at her.

'Hello, Cynthia,' he said in a heavy Lebanese accent.

Earlier in the day, she would have at least tried to engage in polite conversation as she pretended that she knew who he was, but at this point she just smiled until she caught his name on the confirmation. 'Mr Reza.'

She found the reservation number on the paper under his hand and typed it into her computer, looking over the information that showed up on the screen with the notes that Lisa or someone had left in his file. Early forties, Lebanese national, liked to have a nightcap delivered to his room at 11:45 every night. There was no note of his occupation nor a billing address for a company, just a bank address in New York City. He'd stayed in the Lux at least a dozen times over the last two years, but no longer than a day—this time his reservation was for a week. With only a little twitch of her eyebrow, Cynthia scanned his key card and slipped it into an envelope.

'You're staying in your regular room,' she said, setting the envelope on the counter and circling the number.

'It will be nice to stay here for longer,' he replied, as if reading her mind. 'My business usually has me jumping from city to city very quickly.'

'It must be a big project to keep you in Miami this long,' Cynthia said, dropping her pen back in the holder on the desk. She watched as his lips curled into a thin smile.

'Huge.'

There was something creepy behind this smile that she didn't notice in his first one. A chill crawled up her spine, but she couldn't figure out what seemed threatening about the man. He kept his eyes on her for a long few seconds before taking the envelope and pushing the reservation towards her.

'Could you please throw this in the wastebasket for me?'

She didn't let her gaze falter, wanting to watch his every move. 'Of course.'

He slowly left the counter, picking up his blazer as he did, and rolled his bag over to the closest elevator. Once he'd boarded the lift and the doors had closed, Cynthia closed her hand over the reservation and folded it back. She was about to drop it in the trash when she saw spindly writing near one of the edges: 'my room, fifteen minutes, tell no one.'

Honestly, Cynthia was at a loss as to what to do in this situation. She couldn't remember any time that something like this had happened to Lisa—or anyone behind the front desk for that matter—but she was very aware of what she'd been told by Lisa following the Keefe incident: if there's a chance that a situation could lead to customers being hurt, you should find a way to lessen the toll through all means necessary. With her mind dwelling on Mr Reza's dark smile, she realised that if he wanted to meet with her, it would be better to just listen rather than take the chance that he'd hurt anyone in the hotel. After all, maybe he just wanted to discuss some hotel matter in private.

Despite placating herself with that thought, she still found her knees shaking as she picked up a letter opener from Lisa's desk and slipped it down the front of her dress, catching it between her skin and centre bra. After assuring that the weapon was secure, she walked to the door behind the desk and peeked in, clearing her throat to get the attention of the man inside the office.

'I have to go check something on the thirtieth floor. I'll be back in about ten minutes.'

The man raised an eyebrow at her. 'I didn't even hear the phone ring.'

She shrugged. 'I answered it pretty quickly.'

He stared at her but seemed to accept the answer. 'I'll take care of the front desk.'

'Thanks, Jim.'

Once she got to the door of 3026, Cynthia realised she had absolutely no recollection of the trip to the thirtieth floor. She stood in front of the door, shifting uncomfortably. Just before she was about to lean against the wall and compose herself, the door opened and Mr Reza stood looking at her.

'Miss Browning, please come in.'

The Lebanese man stepped aside and she came in, standing still as she heard the door click closed behind her.

'Please, take a seat at the table. I have something that is important to talk to you about.'

A small amount of relief tingled at the base of her skull as she made her way across the room and sat down at the table. She settled her hands on the glass top, watching as the heat from them spread around her fingers and palms as white condensation. Reza was over by the luggage holder, bending over his open bag, but once he found a notebook, he came over and settled across from Cynthia, setting the notebook on the table and twisting a pen in his fingers.

'You know Lisa Rippner, yes?'

Cynthia crossed her ankles. 'Of course.'

'And her husband?'

'A little,' Cynthia said nervously, weaving her fingers.

'He has hired me to watch his wife for the week whilst he is in Dubai.'

The redhead's stomach twisted into knots almost immediately. Would Jackson really entrust Lisa's safety to someone else? Whenever she saw the two of them together, Jackson always had his arm snaked protectively around her waist, paying more attention to the people around them than the people he was supposed to be visiting with. When he left her, he seemed more interested in her protecting herself than leaving someone in charge, as he didn't seem to trust anyone but himself with his wife. Even when Joe or Cynthia volunteered to stay with Lisa or open their houses to her, Jackson would give his wife a sneaky look and then refuse.

'Miss Browning?'

Cynthia's head snapped up and she looked Reza in the eyes. 'Yes?'

'You are the person who is closest to Mrs Rippner,' he said, leaning forward. 'I need you to help me with my job.'

There was a long pause before Cynthia dropped her hands into her lap. 'I'd like to talk to Jackson about that.'

Reza gave her the same cold smile that he used when he gave her the note. 'You have to trust me, Miss Browning. Mr Rippner is increasingly concerned with his wife's safety because of her condition; because of the problems with Lux Atlantic Dubai, he knows that he will have to be away from home for a very long time in the coming months and wants someone to trail her to insure her well-being.'

'Why do you need me to help you?'

'Mrs Rippner is fond of changing her schedule from day to—'

'Jackson told her to do that,' Cynthia interrupted, giving him an unbelieving look.

'Yes,' Reza said, leaning back in his chair and scribbling on the bottom of the top page of the notebook. 'But my point is that I do not want her to see me, so I do not want to be here when she is working.'

This relaxed Cynthia a bit, realising that if Reza didn't want to be in the hotel when Lisa was, there was much less of a chance that he would be trying to kill her or something. 'If you don't need to know her schedule to watch her...'

'I need to meet with you, not watch Mrs Rippner. I need you to tell me details of her day, what she is doing, how she is feeling, important information.'

Cynthia gave him an odd look. 'Why can't Jackson just call Lisa or me himself?'

'He worries that Lisa lies to him to make him comfortable,' Reza said, and Cynthia knew that statement to be true. 'Also, with the building problems in Dubai, he has a lot on his plate already and cannot be bothered with more responsibilities. I can consolidate everything into a very short phone call.'

Reza continued to give her a dark look she had previously only associated with Jackson until she nodded her head lightly.

'Good, I am glad you are willing to help,' he said to her, melting back into the normal Reza that Cynthia recognised from his prior trips to the hotel. 'Please remember, do not tell anyone about this. Mr Rippner does not want his wife to be overly worried about her safety because he worries about the possibility of a stress-related miscarriage. If you tell anyone about me being here, Mr Rippner will be quite upset.'

If there was one thing in her life that she didn't want, it was Jackson Rippner having something out for her. She swallowed. 'I understand. I won't tell anyone.'

Reza nodded. 'It has been good talking to you, Miss Browning. I look forward to working with you.'

When Reza stretched his hand towards the door, Cynthia nodded and stood. He followed a couple of steps behind her as she walked to the door, and as she was about to leave, he handed her a business card. Once she stepped into the hallway, he closed the door and locked the deadbolts. Standing in the hallway looking at the card held between her fingers, Cynthia vaguely wished she knew enough about Jackson or Reza to determine whether what she was doing was right or wrong.

---

'_Sabah el-kheir_, Mr Rippner.'

'_Sabah al-nur_,' Jackson said shortly as he walked into the foreman's office and took a seat in a leather chair that offered a good view of the skyscraper's construction. 'Do you have those files for me?'

The Saudi man pulled open a drawer on his desk and dropped a large pile of manila folders onto the desktop. Jackson opened the first and flipped through it, his lips moving slightly as he read. During the three weeks he'd spent at home, things had gone to hell in Dubai, and as of yet, he'd been unable to determine what the cause had been. The Dubai police had been investigating the disappearances of Lux Atlantic Dubai employees, but there'd been no sign of them, so the investigations were falling flat. Construction had slowed down and suddenly even the people assigning permits to the company were revoking privileges. Jackson was suspicious that the cause was a threat of familial kidnapping after going to debate with the officials, but he knew from experience that most people threatened with that were tight-lipped. There was little chance of them opening up to him willingly.

Watching Jackson's eyes closely, the foreman brushed his fingertips across his thick beard. The younger man looked intimidating even when going about his normal day-to-day business, and the Saudi found himself wondering about the man's background. Most of the employees knew little about Rippner, but it was common knowledge he had a wife and a child on the way and that he'd secured the job because his wife was the lead manager of the original Lux Atlantic in America. There was a nearly terrifying accuracy and detail with which he did his job, and everyone could very easily tell he was getting aggravated about the recent blocks in his plans for the hotel. It seemed that he was used to having his jobs done exactly to plan and every day that something new got in his way, he grew angrier and more distant.

'Mr Rippner?'

Jackson looked up from the files before reaching forward and pulling them into his briefcase. He snapped the container closed before looking at the foreman.

'What would you like us to do about the lack of workers and permits, sir?'

'Continue building,' he said coldly to the man. 'I'll take care of everything else.'

With that curt statement, Jackson stalked out of the office and slammed the door behind him. Once the man could see the manager walking away from the construction office, a hardhat set haphazardly atop his head, he picked up the phone and punched in an Iranian number. It rang for a few seconds before a girl's voice answered.

'_Salaam_?'

'Little Hediyeh,' the man said in a sugary voice. 'Is your father home?'

She didn't answer, but he could hear her slippered feet pattering on the marble floors of her house as she walked to find her father. There was a soft conversation in Farsi that he couldn't understand, and soon there were the sounds of the girl walking away and a heavy door closing.

'Rashid. How are things in Dubai?'

Rashid smiled a bit as he watched Jackson having a frenzied conversation with one of the construction workers. 'They're going well. Things are very busy, a bit frantic now.'

'That's good,' the man replied. 'How is your supervisor handling it?'

'Oh, he's very upset, Imad,' Rashid said with a little laugh. 'I have a feeling he'll be here a lot more than he'll be in America and he's not happy at all about that.'

'Well, you know, his pretty little wife,' Imad said, his tone sinister.

'Yes, his pretty little wife.'

'Have you heard from Musab?'

'He's already sent us several pages of information on the subject.'

'Already? How long has he been studying in Miami?'

'Four days,' Imad replied, a little lilt in his voice. 'His choice of _basista_ has been amazingly good.'

'Wonderful, wonderful.'

There was some silence after the heavy door opened once more, and when Imad spoke again, it was in English rather than Arabic or Farsi. 'How long do you think your supervisor will be in Dubai?'

'He's leaving on Wednesday the eighteenth. It's a month after his wife's birthday, which he missed in December,' Rashid said to Imad. 'So much for being heartless and professional.'

'We'll be sure to move Musab out by late Tuesday night.'

'And you're sure that the _basista_ won't speak.'

'Like I said,' Imad said, then paused and Rashid could hear the sound of fabric against fabric as Imad's daughter sat in his lap. 'She is a perfect _basista_.'

Outside, Jackson's Arabic diatribe suddenly stopped as he looked up at the construction office and noticed the foreman looking down at him as he spoke on the phone. Icy eyes narrowed as the man backed away from the window, and Jackson was about to walk back up to the office when one of the workers started speaking again, and Jackson turned back to finish what he'd started. By the time Jackson had won the argument, Rashid was leaving his office and making his way to the pewter Mercedes-Benz that was always in the car park beyond the construction fence. As the workers filtered back to their posts, Jackson quickly made his way to the construction fence and watched Rashid get into the car. Once the man started driving away, Jackson slipped out of the fence and strode towards the parking lot, intending to jump out to stop Rashid, but once he was on the sidewalk, he heard the slow tapping of high heels and froze.

'Jackson Rippner,' a familiar voice suddenly said next to his ear. He felt a gun being pressed to his back. 'Long time, no see.'

Jackson didn't have time to react before he was pistol-whipped.

---

Two hours later, Jackson was watching angrily as his abductor Vasylyna Melinyshyn paced back and forth talking loudly on a cell phone in Ukrainian. His eyes were locked with her equally blue ones, and he couldn't help but remember the horrible, horrible times he'd spent with her from Abuja to Geneva. It had been almost five years since he'd seen his former partner face-to-face; they'd split on very unfriendly circumstances then, and after attaining the full use of his last dog, Ian, he'd made a point of forgetting his first. After all, what man was stupid enough to remember a woman who watched him shoot himself and then called him a pussy for it because he didn't actually managed to off himself? She sat down her phone on the table and looked at him, perching herself against the edge of the dresser in the room.

'You do not look happy to see me, Jackson.'

He twisted his wrist behind him, only succeeding in scratching the skin more. 'Why are you here in Dubai?'

'Protecting you from over-reacting and getting yourself killed,' she said smoothly in her heavy Eastern European accent, looking over her nails.

'Who hired you?'

With a little smile, she gave him an odd look. 'You have been out of the business too long. You know how it goes: we just do what our customers say and move on. _Pacta sunt servada_, yes?'

She crossed the room in a couple of strides and bent down close to his face; he found himself relearning every curve. It was easy to see why they were able to pass as siblings. Their lips were full; both had delicate yet pronounced cheekbones, the same cold eyes, freckles across their noses and cheeks, and incredibly pale skin. To his rage, she smirked, pursing her lips exactly as he did then moved a hand to run her hand through his messy hair.

'Tell me, Jack,' she murmured, her lips nearly touching his lips as she spoke. 'How is wifey holding up with you leaving all the time?'

Jackson snapped out and bit her lip hard and Lyna stood straight, pressing her fingertips to her bleeding lip. Just a second later, she dropped her hand and just let the blood flow down her face. With a crazed look on his face and blood covering his teeth, Jackson was straining at the ropes she'd used to tie him to the chair.

'Touched a sore spot?'

'What have you done to her?' he screamed at her, his face red. 'What have you done, Lyna?'

'Shh, you should keep your voice down,' she replied, pressing a finger to her bloody lips. 'You are being rude to the neighbours.'

She went over to her bed and picked up his blazer, digging through the pocket until she found his handkerchief. After dabbing at her lip, she spit blood onto the white cloth and looked back at her captive, who was still struggling against his bindings enough that there were bright streaks of blood across his shirt. She glared at him.

'Your wife is safe for now,' the Ukrainian said to him, dabbing at her lip some more as he ground his teeth together and tried to lunge at her. 'Do not look at me that way, Jack. I am not the one trying to hurt her.'

'How do I know you're not working for Hezbollah?'

'You know I do not work assassinations off of Eurasia,' she smirked, sitting next to his jacket and stealing a cigarette from the blazer pocket. She dug around to find a lighter, shaking it a bit to check the fluid level before using it to set alight the end of the cigarette. 'I would not be stalking you, except for the fact that my employer knew you would be in Dubai a lot—_my_ jurisdiction.'

With the cigarette held between her lips, she stood and walked behind Jackson. After a few short movements, she'd loosened his bindings and he shook them off of his arms. He stayed perfectly still once he'd been released and had his eyes closed when she disappeared into the hotel bathroom, coming back in a moment with a glass of water. He glared at her through the glass as she shoved it in his face.

'Wash out your mouth.'

Keeping his eyes on her, he took it all in one swig, sloshed it around in his mouth, and swallowed. When he'd finished, she flung his blazer at him.

'Do not let yourself be alone with Rashid al-Hamara. He is in contact with someone from Hezbollah, but they have been using secure lines, so I cannot track the calls.'

He stood and shrugged on his jacket, covering the bloody shirt completely by buttoning it. Without a word, he moved to the door but stopped with his hand on the doorknob when she cleared her throat.

'You cannot let anyone know about this. Not your wife, no one,' she said coldly. 'You must go on as if nothing new has happened. Keep up with your job, do not fawn over your wife.'

'I'm a professional,' he reminded her, straightening his collar.

'I'm beginning to doubt that,' Lyna spat, releasing a cloud of smoke as he slipped out of the door.

---

When Jackson got home late that Wednesday, he found Lisa asleep on the couch with the television blaring. Coming around to the kitchen, he saw an egg that he supposed she meant to be hard-boiled sitting on the counter next to a dry pot, having jumped out and away from the heat. He removed the scorched pot from the stove and turned off the burner, cracked the shell off the egg and slowly ate it as he watched his wife sleep. With half of the egg left, he went around in front of her and crouched down, running his fingertips lightly through her hair until she opened her eyes a bit. He held the half egg on the tips of his other fingers and gave her a questioning look.

'Would you still like your egg, or may I steal the entire thing?'

Lisa just smiled sleepily.

Tossing the rest of it in his mouth with a smirk, he settled next to her and she sat up enough to move and lay her head in his lap, looking up at him with a yawn. He reached over and started brushing her stomach with his fingertips, and within a moment she had his hand under her own.

'You didn't tell me you were coming home.'

He laughed a bit. 'Hiding someone from me?'

She rolled her eyes. 'I meant it's a nice surprise.'

'Happy belated birthday.'

'Aw, Jackson,' she said, starting to sit up, but he held her down.

'None of that,' he replied. 'You'll make me regret it.'

Lisa smirked and nuzzled her head against his thigh. 'Anything interesting happen in Dubai?'

For several long moments, he considered the question but covered his delay with the premise that he was trying to get egg out of his teeth. 'Nothing out of the ordinary. And here?'

'Cynthia's been more clingy than usual lately,' Lisa replied with certain distaste. 'It's been getting kinda annoying, especially because she's more on edge for whatever reason.'

'Isn't she always on edge?' Jackson inquired, laying his head back to look at the ceiling. 'She always _looks_ like she's on edge.'

His wife shrugged a bit as she wove her fingers through his. 'There's something different about her. There are also rumours that she's going out with one of our regulars.'

'Hm?' he grunted, trying to seem just a tad interested in the gossip that he really couldn't care less about.

'Apparently she's been seeing him a lot since he came in last Thursday,' Lisa said to him, tipping her head back to get a better look at his stubbly chin. 'Musab Reza's his name, and usually he just stays for a day or so, but this time he stayed until last night.'

Jackson tensed. He knew that name.

'What is it?' Lisa asked, her voice edged with fear.

'I, uh, contracted out to an organisation that Reza belongs to,' he said, absentmindedly rubbing her hair back from her forehead with a flattened hand.

'Oh,' she replied, her voice suddenly a bit hoarse. 'Do you think...?'

'I wouldn't worry too much about it,' he interrupted. 'Cynthia's your friend, and if she thought you were in trouble, she'd have told you, right?'

Lisa contemplated the question for a moment. 'Right.'


	19. 13 March 2006

A/N: Final exams are over!!! One more term to go, then a summer as an aid worker in Ghana, then NURSING SCHOOL!!!

---

The month of February may have seemed pointless and dull for Joe Reisert, Carol Bellamy, or Lisa and Jackson Rippner, but for Cynthia Browning, Lyna Melinyshyn, and the whole of Hezbollah, the month was pure chaos. As Lisa went about her job as manager of the Lux Atlantic, dealing with the normal irate customers over things as out of her control as the weather and traffic, Cynthia kept Musab Reza in the know about everything Lisa told her. When Jackson stood looking at the shining monolith of Lux Atlantic Dubai with plans in his hands as he fought over worker organisation in Arabic, Rashid al-Hamara was calling Imad Fayez Mugniyah about the man's every move. In turn, Mugniyah was informing the board of Hezbollah and making arrangements for the exact date and time that the kidnapping of Lisa Rippner and her unborn child would take place.

As Joe Reisert and Carol Bellamy informed family members about the impending birth of their grandchild and arranged presents for a shower, Vasylyna used her pull within the European Union to have false identifications made for the Rippners. Coming out of the Brussels headquarters one frosty February day, she smiled at a man with lipstick on his collar as she slipped the two passports into her black leather purse. Adjusting her skirt, she disappeared into the crowd as the man wondered whom he could call about removing a lipstick stain without his wife finding out. Down the street at a post office, Vasylyna addressed an envelope to a post office box in Miami and handed it over to the postal clerk with the spoken direction _'par aéropostale_.'

Two days later, Lisa Rippner jangled her keys as she walked into the central post office of Miami. She pulled her mail out of the post office box and gave an odd look at a battered envelope that was covered with stamps and tape. Ripping it open, she tipped the contents into her open hand and stared at the British passports. After looking into the now-empty envelope, she flipped one of the passports open and found her picture with the name 'Laura Celeste Rollins' and an address in Bath, England. She fingered through the pages quickly, and near the end of the visa section found a small piece of paper with Cyrillic on the top and a note written in strong print: 'Deliver to your husband.'

When Jackson got into bed that night and slipped his hand under his pillow, he felt the cover of the passport and raised an eyebrow, but he didn't let anything on to his wife, who sat reading a book next to him. His fingers danced over the cover and he quickly found it was a British passport of the old style with a raised picture in the information section. Looking up at his wife, he noticed a passport tucked between the back of her hardcover book and the back plate. He caught her eyes and she bent down to kiss him before closing her book and setting it on her nightstand.

Work, doctors appointments, overseas flights, irate employees, problems, strains, verbal fights, physical make-ups, the typical lives of a couple of married professionals. But then of course there was the stalking, the continuing disappearances of Lux employees in Dubai, the suspicious relationship between Cynthia and Musab that Lisa found herself denying, the large amounts that Jackson brought home and immediately put in a safe in his office without a word, and the fact that they took a different route to work every morning.

It was after Musab's teleconference with Cynthia on the 28th on February that he was informed by telephone that the kidnapping of Lisa Rippner would take place on 13 March, her husband's twenty-ninth birthday. Two weeks. Mugniyah was taking care of informing additional Hezbollah members around the area and they would arrive over the next twelve days with no others staying in the Lux Atlantic like Musab. Everything seemed to be perfectly in place—although Lisa's schedule wasn't set, Jackson was slated to leave for Dubai the night before, thus pulling _the_ major roadblock out of the way.

What they didn't expect was a blizzard that closed down the Detroit airport. As the terrorist group received Lisa's schedule from the oblivious Cynthia and consolidated their plans, Jackson Rippner was boarding the first plane back to Miami, coming to terms with the fact that it would probably be another three days before any flight coming vaguely close to Dubai was going to be routed through six or so cities to bypass the blizzards dumping snow over Dallas to New York, from London to Moscow and beyond. He sat in the Atlanta airport reading an article in _Time_ about terrorist cells in London as the terrorists in his hometown got into position in and around the Lux Atlantic. Sitting on the plane before it left, he answered his ringing cell phone. In Miami, worried because her husband hadn't called her from the London airport, Lisa Rippner stood looking out at the ocean, sipping at a mug of hot water with lemon squeezed into it.

As Jackson's flight touched down in Miami, Lisa got into the elevator dressed in her work dress and spinning her car keys around her index finger. Miami International was dead, what with it being the off-season and early in the morning, so Jackson walked straight from his flight to the parking garage where his car sat waiting for him. Across town, his wife pulled out of the garage of their building, singing along with the iPod that was plugged in to the tape deck of her car, completely unaware of the danger waiting for her at work. Her husband, on the other hand, found that for the first time in ages, he had the cold feeling of fear in the pit of his stomach.

At the Lux Atlantic, Lisa sat in her car, finishing up her make-up as her favourite song ended. Once the song finished, she laid her head back against the headrest and sighed at the same time as her husband pulled into the garage at their condo. As she stepped out of her car and blew a curl away from her face, her eyes resting on the hotel across the asphalt, Jackson strode quickly across the condo, gathering a duffle bag of clothing, identifications and the money he'd been accruing from his foreign accounts for the last month. He set the alarm and took a last look at the condo before opening a secondary safe in the living room and pulling out a black velveteen pouch, slipping it into the pocket of his blazer.

When Lisa walked into the lobby five minutes later, the only thing on her mind was that she would gladly kill a man to have a cup of coffee. Her heels tapped across the marble tile floor, which was just beginning to have a couple of people in it on the early Sunday morning. A man she didn't recognise was polishing the floor. She watched him with an odd expression, adjusting her purse on her shoulder and scanning the room clandestinely. Once behind the desk, she typed her username and password into the computer, giving it a confused glance when it suddenly shut off.

With a little grumble, Lisa bent down to hit the computer then repeatedly press the power button before glancing over and noticing that every computer behind the desk was off. Slowly, she stood and came face-to-face with a familiar man. She jumped.

'Mr Reza,' she said, placing a hand on her chest. 'You scared me.'

He stared at her coldly and she found herself backing up. The back of her knees hit her desk and she felt around numbly for her letter opener, only to have Reza hold it up with a bemused look. She set her jaw, slipping along the edge of the desk as Reza came along the outside of the front desk with a maniacal smile crossing his face. One of her high heels caught in a covered outlet on the floor and she staggered, jabbing her hip on the edge of the desktop and ripping her dress. Sucking in a sharp breath, she dropped her eyes to her side and pressed her hands to the cut for a moment just to have Reza come along and slip his arm around her, dragging her to the floor with the letter opener pressed to her neck.

'Do not make a sound,' he hissed, pressing the opener against her windpipe as he fingered the hem of her dress.

There was the sound of the front doors of the hotel opening and Reza shoved her to her feet, curling himself under the desk next to the computer tower. His hand tightened around Lisa's ankle as she watched a man walk across the lobby slowly. Her eyes flickered from the short man polishing the floor to the man covertly peeking out from behind a newspaper by the elevators, which she noticed had no electricity going to them. A couple of men were standing in front of the bar, dressed as security and pretending to have a conversation, and one man was being the overt of the bunch, standing pressed against the door obviously holding a gun beneath his blazer.

Lisa took a shuttering breath as a sunglassed man got to the desk and laid his hands on the counter in front of him. She swallowed harshly. 'Honey, I thought you would be in London by now.'

'Ah...' said a male voice.

At her supposed lie, Reza grimaced; in a fleeting moment of rage, he raised the hand holding the letter-opener and jabbed it into the top of Lisa's foot. Blood gushed out and she stumbled, stopped from falling only by her husband's strong hand as it shot out to grab her wrist. In only a moment, he'd flung her to the side and jumped over the counter, landing deftly on his feet before smoothly grabbing a paperweight from Lisa's desk and hitting the now-standing Reza upside the head with it. Lisa squatted down and carefully removed the letter-opener from her foot with a painful hiss. When she stood back up, she noticed that the other men were coming towards her husband and Reza as they continued their fight in the lobby. She scurried around the counter, going to the closest man and reeling back before stabbing him through the neck with the letter opener.

Hearing someone hit the ground, Jackson spun around with a look of terror in his eyes only to see a man with half of a letter opener sticking out of his neck as Lisa stared at him, her eyes wide. 'Lisa, get the fuck out of here!'

'No!' she screamed harshly as Reza's fist met Jackson's jaw, making his neck crack.

With Jackson caught off guard, Reza turned his attention to Lisa. He quickly made it to her, taking her hair and yanking her head back as he pressed himself against her. 'What is it like to pay for the sins of another, Mrs Rippner?'

Lisa's eyes were filled with rage, and instead of answering, she spit in his face. He merely reached up with his other hand and cleared it out of his eyes before tugging harshly at her hair and backing her into a wall. From over Reza's shoulder, she saw Jackson stand and glare at the back of the Lebanese man's head. He bent down and ripped the bloody letter opener from the neck of Lisa's victim, who appeared to be suffocating on his own blood, and he was about to stab Reza when one of Reza's men wrapped his arm around Jackson's neck and pulled him to the ground. They rolled around until Jackson was on top, but instead of strangling the man, Lisa watched, horrified, as Jackson kept the man pinned on the ground and shoved the letter opener straight into his ear.

Jackson held the man down as he spasmed and then lay still in a pool of blood. As Lisa gagged, Reza shoved his foot onto hers, making her scream, but rather than staying in his grasp, the adrenaline helped her free her head from him and she swiftly cracked her forehead to his. The man's hands flew to his head and Lisa ran, smacking into her husband, who was coldly surveying his kill. After a moment, Jackson wrapped his arms around his woozy Lisa and pulled her into him as he watched the three other men, wondering why they weren't making a move towards the couple.

The two of them stood in the centre of the lobby, Jackson's eyes darting from exit to exit in the hotel's ground floor only to see that every possible one was covered by one of Reza's men. Lisa's arms slipped under Jackson's coat, originally just a natural reaction to get closer to him, but she realised as her hands reached around his back that she could feel a gun tucked into the waistband of his pants. As her hand closed around the grip, she felt his hold on her loosen a little.

'Caught in a tight spot, are we not?' Reza hissed, wiping a trickle of blood from his forehead. 'Just give us your wife now, Mr Rippner.'

Lisa spun out from her husband, pulling back the slide on the pistol as she turned to face Reza. She squeezed the trigger and heard the explosion as her gun discharged followed immediately by another discharge. Jackson shoved her to the ground and she landed on her side, stunned as blood splattered over her face. For a split second, she thought the blood was Reza's before her husband landed on his knees next to her and fell to the side. Her scream echoed through the lobby and she rolled to her other side and looked at her husband, who calmed her with his eyes.

Looking closer, she noticed that the bullet had only hit his upper arm, but she continued her theatrics over Jackson as she set the gun next to him. Two of the remaining men began moving towards the Rippners, but the one with the polisher stayed by his machine. Jackson's eyes narrowed at the man as he flipped switches and pressed a button on the side. There was a whirring noise and his eyes widened as he flipped himself over his wife and shot the man. Jackson curled his wife under him and although she had no clue as to why he was doing it, she pulled herself to his chest tightly.

The explosion blew all of the windows out of the front of the hotel. Before the dust had even settled, Jackson yanked Lisa to her feet and they stumbled over the glass and tile fragments, Lisa hobbling a bit on her stabbed foot. They'd almost made it to the remains of the door when the two men left over from the attack came through the dust and with a moment, Jackson had his arms around Lisa again and was backing out of the ruined lobby.

'You know what you have to do, Rippner,' one of the men said as both raised their guns.

Clinging to Jackson, Lisa tried to keep moving even after her husband stopped. She expected to feel his arm raise and hear the gun discharge again, but instead, she felt him dig around in his pocket. His hands clasped behind her back and she heard a glass bottle shatter on the asphalt.

'Jackson, what are you—'

'I'm sorry, Leese,' he said against her ear, and she felt a prick right over her bruised hip.

Almost immediately, Lisa's legs gave out from under her, but Jackson's grip on her was still tight, and he followed her to the ground. As he laid her down, her lips moved in an attempt to beg him for an explanation, but no sound came out. Her head lolled when he set it on the ground, but she still gave him an accusatory look as he brushed the curls out of her face and leaned down so that his lips were close to her own as he supported her chin.

'When you wake up, everything will be better,' he whispered, and her eyes closed.

---

By the time the police had arrived, security was beginning to wake up from their gas-induced sleep and releasing all of the guests who had been trapped in by blocked fire doors. Guests were pouring out of the exits along the backside of the building, barred from entering the lobby because of the danger and the impending police investigation. The police were busy rolling out caution tape as coroners began work on the dead—four bodies in the lobby, all middle-aged Arab men: one was stabbed in the ear, another in the throat, and the last two shot in the chest. Despite a large amount of blood pooled in a couple of places on the floor, there were no other bodies, but there were trails of blood leading out of the door. Across the parking lot, there was one last body that was surrounded by cops.

'Cause of death?'

A medic bent over the body. 'Broken neck.'

'Why is he all the way over here?'

The medic shrugged and looked beyond the body, following a dripping trail of blood from the body to a parking spot. A couple of cops were standing at the end of the trail, taking notes.

'Who was on schedule this morning?'

The cop next to him looked at a typed schedule. 'Lisa Rippner.'

'Lisa Rippner?' the man replied. 'Rippner, like the guy who was accused of the last attack on the Lux Atlantic?'

'Yeah, that's her husband.'

'Well...' the cop said, stopping his writing. 'Do you think this has something to do with Elisabeth Millwood's escape?'

'Might as well write it down.'

On the edge of the parking lot, two police cars had blocked in the drive and caution tape was spread from palm tree to palm tree. A panicked Joe Reisert stopped on the street behind rubberneckers and ran to the tape, explaining himself to the police before being led to the officer in charge. The officer looked the man up and down.

'Yes?'

'I'm Joe Reisert. Lisa is my daughter,' he said quickly. 'And Jackson is my son-in-law. Where are they?'

'Jackson?'

Joe pointed to the MGB parked next to his daughter's car. 'That's his car.'

The two officers next to Joe looked at each other. The younger officer stepped closer to the OIC and their heads bent together as the OIC said something, and then the officer walked off to a couple of other investigating officers. Joe watched the movements, gaping, before turning to the OIC again with an angry look.

'Listen, where is my daughter?'

'Is there any chance that your son-in-law may have kidnapped your daughter?'

A flicker of doubt danced in Joe's eyes, but it quickly fizzled away. 'No. Jackson loves Lisa and he wouldn't hurt her.'

'That wasn't my question. Would he have kidnapped her for any reason?'

'No,' Joe said again, glaring at the officer.

'Why was your son-in-law even here? We called the assistant manager and she said that Lisa's husband was supposed to be in Dubai, that he left last night.'

Joe opened his mouth to say something back, but he realised that there was no comeback. Jackson _was _supposed to be in Dubai, he remembered. Suddenly very uncomfortable, Joe just adjusted his glasses and put a hand over his mouth.

'There has to be another explanation.'


	20. 14 March 2006

A/N: I've started a journal specifically for my trip to Ghana. It's on LiveJournal with the username en(underscore)afrique.

---

The first thing Lisa saw when she woke up was a steering wheel. The radio was playing softly and she could hear other cars passing them. Her foot hurt and she was still wearing her dirty, tattered work dress; from what she could tell, her husband was still wearing his pants from the explosion. One of his hands had its fingers curled in her hair with his thumb rubbing her temple, and as she signalled her consciousness with a moan, he looked down.

'I told you it would be better when you woke up,' he murmured to her. 'Don't sit up too quickly. You'll get a bad head rush.'

She sat up and looked at their surroundings but nothing looked familiar. 'Where are we?'

'We just left Jacksonville.'

'Jacksonville,' she mumbled, pulling the blanket he'd thrown on top of her up to her chin. 'Where are we going?'

'Do you really want to know?'

'Not if you say it like that.'

Lisa sighed and buckled her seatbelt, turning her head to watch the Interstate fly by. Albinoni's _Adagio_ ended on the radio, and a dull announcer replaced the sweet melody. Numbly, she glanced down at her foot and, finding that it had been wrapped, touched her left hip and figured out that Jackson had also bandaged that cut. Turning to the back seat, Lisa saw the suitcases and briefcase buckled into place and the blazer Jackson had been wearing at the Lux was crumpled on top of a duffle bag.

'How long are you expecting us to be gone?' she asked, looking at her husband sternly.

With one hand on his temple and the other on the steering wheel, he looked back at her with a little shrug. 'As long as it takes.'

'Oh, Jackson...' she cried. 'I can't just leave my Dad without telling him where I am. It'll kill him inside. Where's my cell phone?'

She had started looking for her purse when Jackson spoke. 'Your purse is still at the hotel.'

'Then give me your cell phone,' spat Lisa.

'It's somewhere on the Interstate outside of Miami,' he gave her a dry look. 'Would you like to go back and find it?'

She pinched her lips together tightly and then something hit her. 'What the hell did you inject me with?'

'Ativan. Surely by this point you know that's the drug of choice for my former line of work.'

Almost immediately, her hands found her way to her stomach and she glared at her husband. 'You're such a fucker.'

'It's a week or so until your third trimester, Leese,' he said in his 'logical negotiations' voice. 'One hit of Ativan isn't going to cause any problem at all, trust me. I have every intention of protecting my seed.'

Looking straight out the windshield, she just raised an eyebrow.

'Aren't you forgetting something?'

'I kicked just as much ass as you did back in Miami, so don't even try to elicit some kind of gratitude—'

'You hurt me,' he said. 'And after all of your damn questions in the hospital.'

Lisa snuck a peek at her watch. 13 March. 'Happy birthday. I have to pee and I'd like to change clothes, so get off at the next exit.'

---

Jackson stood drinking a Red Bull, leaning against the back of a convenience store. He'd never exactly been able to ascertain what was so convenient about most of them, especially on the back roads of America, with dirty bathrooms and surly cashiers hidden behind bullet-proof glass, but with a very vocal and relatively pregnant wife, it was a lot harder to convince the occupants of the car to just use an empty bottle like he was able to do on his own. She'd even griped enough to convince him to stop at a skeazy pay-by-the-hour motel in the middle of nowhere for a few hours of sleep, and as much as he hated to admit it, it had made him more lucid for the drive. The now three-pack of Red Bull hung off of his index and middle fingers of his left hand, and he stole a glance down at the Bvlgari that told him Lisa had been five minutes in the bathroom. He murmured some hateful comment about his wife and looked at the lights of Pensacola off in the distance before knocking on the door.

'Come on, Leese. I'd like to be out of the state by noon, if you don't mind.'

'Shut up. We're like fifteen minutes from the border,' she said before opening the door and stepping out. 'Why don't you let the baby lean on your bladder for a little while?'

He watched her stretch, her track jacket lifting to expose a few inches of skin between her tank top and running pants, and he found himself having to fight the urge to poke her in the stomach. She looked at his heavy eyelids with a little bit of worry.

'I can drive,' she said as they walked back to the second car that Jackson had stolen from the car park outside of the motel they'd stayed in a few hours earlier.

'You don't know where we're going.'

'Do you even know where we're going?'

'I unfortunately know exactly where we're going,' he said, opening the door and starting to hot-wire the car as his wife got in the passenger side.

In the half-light of pre-dawn, he could have sworn he saw Lisa roll her eyes, but he didn't mention it as the engine roared to life and he slammed his door closed. They pulled away from the gas station, Lisa drinking from a bottle of water as she appeared to be thinking very hard about something.

'If I guess.'

He looked at her, a smile coming over his face as he remembered the bar in Dallas. 'Fine.'

'We're going west, so we could be going to Texas,' she murmured, taking a sip of water. 'But that would be too expected, coming from you. I don't think you'd have us stay in Alabama... New Orleans?'

'It's a stop, but we're not staying there,' he admitted. 'There isn't enough infrastructure at this point in time, and it's too close to Miami.'

He revelled in the silence for a few minutes as she thought again. All he could hear was the rumbling of the tires against the pavement as he merged back onto the Interstate. Lisa adjusted her seatbelt before looking at him.

'We're going to New Orleans and taking the train to Chicago then Albany.'

Jackson's eyes grew wide and he snapped his head to the side to gape at his wife. 'Well, Bennington, Vermont actually, but... incredible guess.'

She glared at him. 'I heard you on the pay phone in Tallahassee, Jack. Who were you talking to?'

His eyes refocused on the road. 'Vasylyna Melinyshyn.'

An eyebrow shot up. '_Vaseline_...'

'Vasylyna, Lyna, my first dog,' he said with a sneer. 'She's the one who called you from Dubai.'

'And sent us the passports.'

He didn't respond at all to her, but she knew she was right. Convinced for the moment that Jackson wasn't trying to kill her, she yawned and looked at the passing streetlights lazily. If Jackson kept up his current speed, Lisa figured they'd get into New Orleans by about eight or nine in the morning, but she didn't have a clue as to what time the train he'd intended to take would be leaving New Orleans; the conversation had been very general between himself and the Eastern European woman. Yawning again, she adjusted her seat belt and laid her head in Jackson's lap. He reached to rest his hand on her stomach and she nuzzled the back of her head into his clean suit pants.

---

Every television in the AMTRAK depot in New Orleans was tuned in to the morning news about the terrorist attack on the Lux Atlantic. The field reporter for CNN, silent but represented by the lagging closed captioning on the bottom of the screen, was standing a good distance away from the mess of the lobby. A few moments after the pictures of six terrorists flashed across the screen, the captioning caught up and mentioned that five bodies had been found but that one of them, believed to be Musab Reza, a New York City businessman and supposed terrorist, had disappeared and was currently being hunted by the FBI. There was mention of the missing Rippners along with a picture of them right before their wedding with a rarely smiling Jackson, his arm around Lisa's waist and their faces pressed together. A small group had gathered under one of the televisions and a curious stationmaster climbed up on a ladder to turn the sound back on.

'... is about five feet, nine inches tall with blue eyes and brown hair. He is currently a suspect in the disappearance of his wife because of the following footage, taken by a security camera outside of the lobby.'

Choppy black and white footage appeared on the screen and showed Jackson holding his wife as she looked like she was trying to escape. His hand was poised at her lower back and there was the definite motion of injection before Lisa went limp in his arms and he laid her on the ground. Once she was motionless, Jackson disappeared back into the lobby and there were flashes of gunfire before a man ran from the building pursued by Jackson. The tape fast-forwarded to Jackson returning and picking up his wife, giving a look straight into the camera before walking out of the frame.

'Both of the Rippners' cars were still in the parking lot of the hotel, and a car that was missing was found south of Jacksonville. At this point, the police have not yet been able to find what mode of transportation Jackson Rippner may be using, nor have they received any leads about Musab Reza's whereabouts. People are encouraged to call the Federal Bureau of Investigation if they see Jackson Rippner, Lisa Rippner or Musab Reza, or if they might have any clues that may lead to them. Investigators wish to remind the public that there is no worry about Reza committing a general terrorist attack, as it is against the beliefs of his organisation to commit generalised murder.'

The screen split in half with the field reporter on one side and the anchorman for CNN on the other.

'Thank you,' the anchorman said, exchanging a few comments with the field reporter before he dominated the screen again. 'Investigators in this case are most interested in the safe recovery of Lisa Rippner. She is five feet, five inches tall with curly reddish brown hair and green eyes, and is currently six months pregnant. Over her right collarbone, she has a scar that is about three inches long. She may or may not be with her husband, Jackson Rippner, who again is five feet, nine inches tall with blue eyes and brown hair. He has a scar on this throat and is believed to be injured from the fight at the Lux Atlantic.'

Nearly the moment they'd arrived in the station, Jackson pulled his wife into a bathroom and they'd sufficiently disguised themselves. After re-bandaging his upper arm, he cut his hair and spiked it up a bit before changing into more casual jeans with a collared shirt and a far-too-oversized sweater that reached down to the middle of his palms. Leaning close to the mirror, he put brown contacts in and blinked a couple of times before taking his glasses from his bag and slipping them on. After a glance at Lisa's new passport, he looked at her and was about to cut her curls off when he paused, running his fingers through them and then turning her around, brushing out her hair and then tying it into a smooth French braid. Once he finished, he walked away and she looked in the mirror, pulling down a few curls to frame her face and tucking the hanging braid under the part against her head. As he cleaned up, Jackson gave her a vial containing two blue contact lenses, but she just stood staring at them.

'They're not prescription,' he said, making sure every single hair was off of the floor. 'Why do you think I'm wearing my glasses?'

'I don't know how to put contacts in.'

'You just watched me do it,' he replied breezily as he finished packing their things into backpacks and then looking up to mimic the action of placing a contact in one's eye. 'I can't do it for you.'

'Come on, Jackson—'

'James, call me James, Laura.'

'Fine, _James_. Come on, it's not like my eyes are as noticeable as yours.'

After a moment, he took the vial from her and instead pushed a knit hat into her palm. She pulled it on over her tied-back hair with a look of gratitude towards her husband, but he didn't notice it. He pulled a neat stack of money from his briefcase before putting the case into a duffle bag he'd brought with them. Once everything was packed, he stood and looked at his wife. Rearranging her hair a bit and then handing her one of the backpacks and her passport, they went out into the terminal and straight to a ticketing counter.

'Good afternoon,' Jackson said in a British accent that made Lisa's spine tingle quite happily. 'I'd like to purchase a Superliner Bedroom on the next train to Chicago and onto Seattle.'

'Certainly,' the cashier said, smiling at Jackson as she typed in his information. 'And who are these tickets for?'

'James and Laura Rollins,' Jackson replied, pulling Lisa forward by the waist.

The cashier seemed vaguely crestfallen as she looked at Lisa's stomach. She typed their aliases on the computer, and after a moment scanning the screen simply said, 'That'll be $1,066, Mr Rollins.'

Jackson pulled the money out of his back pocket, laying out eleven fresh one hundred dollar bills before the cashier. She took them and gave him his change as the tickets printed out, and after arranging them, she stapled one into a pile for 'Laura' and another for 'James.' Laying them closer to Jackson, she circled the track number and he took both booklets.

'The conductor will ask for your tickets and identification once the train leaves New Orleans,' the woman said, looking at each of them in turn. 'Please be sure to have your passports available.'

'Of course,' Jackson said to the woman, giving her a wink from behind his glasses before walking off with Lisa's arm slipped through his own.

---

A couple of hours later, Jackson and Lisa had settled in their train compartment, both looking out the window at dark platforms before the train lurched forward and left the station. It was dreary when they'd entered the station earlier that afternoon, and as they came out from under the roof of the platform, they realised it was now raining. Once they reached the outskirts of New Orleans, Jackson stood and started rearranging their bags, putting some things in the tiny closet by the door, others under the couch that Lisa sat upon, and still others on the shelf above his chair. Lisa just sat watching the landscape go by, looking pensive and a bit bored.

'I've never been on a train before.'

Jackson looked down at his wife from the chair he was standing upon. 'It's the best way to travel.'

She nodded a bit as he finished securing the things on the shelf and stepped down to sit and lean over the table towards his wife. Although her eyes flickered over and settled on his, she stayed in the same lax position with her elbow on the armrest and her chin in her hand. They just stared at each other until there was a hesitant knock on the doorframe and the conductor moved aside the curtain that had fallen closed when the train started moving.

'Tickets and identification please.'

Lisa handed the ticket and her passport to the conductor, but he immediately handed them back.

'You need to sign your ticket please, ma'am.'

She looked over at Jackson, who had just finished signing his name at the top of the ticket and was handing his passport and ticket over to the man. With a serious look, Jackson handed her his pen and she hesitated, looking at the passport and remembering to sign the tickets as Laura Rollins. Jackson smiled at her and then the conductor.

'Laura's never been on an AMTRAK before,' he said in a bemused voice. 'This is her first trip to the States.'

The conductor gave a smile back before punching holes in their tickets and handing them back the stubs. 'Your attendant will be by shortly to introduce herself and take dinner reservations.'

'Thank you,' Jackson said, standing as the man walked out of the compartment. He slid the door closed before speaking in a harsh whisper. 'Leese, don't be so upset. If I thought it was safe for you to call Joe, I'd have already let you do it. But you saw the news that was playing in the station; I wouldn't be surprised if the police are tapping your father's phone.'

'I'm not upset about that anymore,' Lisa replied softly, looking out the window. She felt Jackson sit beside her on the couch. 'I just had this stupid idea that things were going to work out.'

'Well...' he said, close to her ear. 'It's not over yet.'

'You don't make a good idealist,' she murmured, turning to him and immediately having her lips locked into Jackson's.

Her arms slipped behind his neck and she pulled him closer to deepen the kiss. Pale fingers ran through the ends of her now straight hair, subconsciously trying to curl it. He bent over her, a knee on the couch and his other foot stabilising him as she kept his face to hers by holding onto either side of his jaw and lightly pulling at his sideburns. Their mouths moved greedily against one another as he placed a hand on her lower back and pressed her against him. She pulled her leg up from under the table and ran it along the leg he had up on the couch, eliciting a moan from her husband as she pulled the bottom cuff of his jeans up with her socked toes. The kiss broke as she placed her hands on Jackson's chest and pushed him down onto the couch, quickly finding her way to sitting on top of him. She tried to bend down and kiss him but started laughing as her stomach got in the way, which made him laugh too. Straddling him, she dropped her face toward his, her brunette hair teasing his cheeks.

'Awkward.'

There was another knock at the door and Lisa looked up to see a woman through the crack in the curtain. Sitting up on her husband again, she spoke, laying on the best British accent she could muster.

'Come in.'

Their car's attendant walked in, her cheeks instantly reddening when she saw the position they were in, but she kept her cool. 'It's a pleasure to meet you, my name is Molly, and I'll be your attendant on this trip to Chicago. If you need anything, just push the call button that's... erm... above your husband's head. What time would you like to have dinner? Reservations start at 5:00.'

Lisa looked down at Jackson, suddenly unhappy about not being able to see his blue eyes behind the murky brown contacts. 'What do you think, Jim?'

He pinched her leg hard. 'We'll do 6:30.'

'6:30,' Molly repeated, writing down their compartment number on a notepad in her hand before pointing the end of her pen at Lisa. 'You look really familiar.'

Jackson looked up at Lisa, but she didn't look at all caught off guard by the attendant's comment. 'I've got that from a lot of people. Apparently I look like someone who was on the telly a few months ago.'

'Ah,' Molly said, nodding, but Lisa could tell she didn't know what Lisa was talking about. 'Well, remember, if you need anything, just press the button.'


	21. 15 March 2006

A/N: Classes have ended and I've never been this bored in my entire life. How the hell do people handle being home all day? I'm being driven insane! It's me and the dogs, and we basically just sit around watching TV. Elizabeth I, Red Eye, Au revoir les enfants, and now judge shows. Augh! And no one's online!

---

Joe sat in his living room, staring at the television with absolutely no idea what he was watching. The phone was on the side table next to him, and he both longed for and feared it ringing. There had been no call since late the night before to tell him that the stolen car from the Lux had shown up near Jacksonville. A couple of calls had come from Carol, but he quickly got very upset and was unable to talk to his ex-wife. He made a promise to call her if anything came up, but he had a nagging feeling that she would appear in Miami before the search for Lisa and Jackson even left the state. Joe hadn't slept since the police called him the day before, and despite the worry coursing through his being, he felt himself slipping off to sleep.

Only about an hour later, however, he was awakened by a pounding on the door. Immediately, all sleepiness was forgotten. Shaking, he stood and walked to the door, seeing a single outline through the stained glass of his new front door. With his hand on the doorknob, he took a moment to breathe then opened the door. He calmed a bit when he saw who it was.

'Cynthia.'

The redhead looked up at him, her face blotchy and covered with tears. As new sobs erupted, he stepped forward and took her into his arms, hugging her as he stepped backwards into the house. He held her in a fatherly fashion, rubbing her back until the cries slowed, and then he put his hands on her upper arms and stepped back, looking her in the eyes.

'What's wrong?'

The woman rolled her head around, her face pinched in mental agony. 'It's all my fault!'

'Oh, Cynthia,' he said in resignation. 'It's no one's fault.'

'I told him everything! I told him her schedule, the days that Jackson was going to be gone, the results of all of her doctors' appointments, her feelings about Jackson and all of his trips to Dubai, the things she's afraid of—'

Joe stared at her. 'What are you talking about?'

'Musab Reza!' she screamed, squeezing her hands into fists. 'He said he was hired by Jackson to protect Lisa when he was in Dubai! I didn't know if I should trust him or not, but I _did_! Jackson just... never talks to me! I didn't know if he would hire someone or not, and I thought that if I helped him, I'd be helping Lisa!'

Cynthia's legs gave out and she fell to the hardwood floor, covering her face with her hands as she began sobbing again, taking big gulps of air. Joe dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around Cynthia, trying to calm her.

'Take some deep breaths,' he said softly, pressing his cheek to the top of her head. 'Come on, it's all right.'

'I killed her and Jackson and the baby...' Cynthia said, hiccoughing against Joe's chest. 'It's all my fault!'

Lisa's father held Cynthia tightly until he heard the phone ring. Letting go of her slowly and feeling her arms drop from his back, he stood and strode to the side table in the room next to the foyer. He glanced at the caller ID on the phone and his eyes widened. He took a deep breath before pushing the talk button.

'Joe Reisert.'

'Mr Reisert, this is Agent Albert Hadamitzky with the FBI field office in Tallahassee. We've located the car that went missing from Jacksonville last night and found what we believe is your daughter's dress wrapped in a paper bag outside of a convenience store in a dumpster about ten miles from the place we recovered the car.'

Joe was silent for a moment and looked up as Cynthia walked to the room with Alfie in her arms, pausing in the doorframe. 'Do you have any idea if she's alive?'

'Actually...' the agent said, and Joe could hear him flipping through papers. 'We have security footage from the motel where the car was parked. It shows who we think may be your daughter and son-in-law walking to the car that's missing.'

He stared at Cynthia. 'Does it look like Jackson is holding her hostage?'

'At first, we thought so, but she ends up walking around the parking lot on her own as he re-packs the car, and he sent her to pay for the room by herself.'

Joe visibly relaxed, which made Cynthia drop her hand from her chest and take a deep breath as she buried her face in Alfie's fur. 'Is there anything else?'

'The missing car was seen outside of Pensacola early this morning. We have tape of Mr Rippner buying Red Bull, water and a pack of cigarettes. We haven't found the car from the motel yet, but we're searching all areas west of here. If we find out anything else, we'll be sure to call you immediately.'

'Thank you,' Joe said then hung up the phone.

---

Late that night, Lisa found she couldn't sleep. Jackson was sound asleep, curled up with his arm cast over her; after giving him a light kiss, she slipped out from under him, grabbed his sweater from the hook on the wall and snuck out, closing the door softly behind her.

She hadn't quite got used to walking on the train yet, so as she went down the hallway, she was jostled this way and that. It took her a few minutes to make it to the vista dome of the train, but when she got there, she was happy to find that there were still a few people sitting around looking at the lights of distant Illinois cities. After getting an orange juice, she sat down at an empty table and watched as they pulled into a station lit by dim yellow lights. Only a couple people were waiting on the platform when they stopped, and they boarded quickly. As Lisa watched, however, a lone woman wearing a sharp business suit and high heels walked out of the station and onto the platform rolling behind her a simple black bag.

Pensively, Lisa leaned closer to the window and looked at the woman's face. As if she could sense Lisa, the woman stared right back and Lisa was stunned to see eyes as blue as her husband's and a face that was built just like his. Once the woman disappeared onto the train, Lisa stood and began making her way back to her compartment. The train jolted and started moving as she got to the door of their car, so Lisa moved slowly with a hand on each wall as she came back to the room.

Seeing that the light was on, Lisa laughed as she opened the door. 'Jackson, you'll never believe it, but I saw a woman who—'

She froze in the doorway. Jackson was sitting up in bed, looking at her with a thumb pressed to the centre of his lips, and across the table sat the woman, her heavily lidded eyes focused on Lisa.

'... looked exactly like you.'

Jackson reached out his hand. 'Sit down, Lisa, and lock the door behind you.'

Lisa did as she was told and locked the door, closing the curtain and velcroing it to the wall. Taking Jackson's extended hand, she sat down next to him with both of her hands around his. In response to her light shaking, Jackson pulled the blanket from his legs and covered hers.

'Lisa, this is Vasylyna Melinyshyn. Lyna, this is my wife, Lisa.'

'It is a pleasure to finally meet you,' the woman said in a heavily accented voice, throwing her nearly black hair over a bony shoulder. The woman had to be the thinnest person Lisa had ever seen. 'We have already spoken, yes?'

'Yes,' Lisa replied, giving Vasylyna a strained smile.

'I didn't expect you to be here, Lyna,' Jackson said to Lyna, breaking the obvious tension between the two women. 'Last I checked, you weren't allowed in America.'

Lyna gave Jackson a devious smile. 'You should know best my powers of solicitation.'

Out of the corner of his eye, Jackson could have sworn he saw Lisa give him a death glare. 'Of course. The same sway you used to get our passports—your reputation as a whore.'

With a light laugh, Lyna crossed her legs and leaned against the table, smirking. 'Would you like to know why I came, or shall we call each other names all night, pussy boy?'

Jackson bristled. 'You know that I'd love a fight, but we only have a few hours until we get into Chicago, and something tells me you won't be wanting to stay on the train that long.'

'Very keen observation,' Lyna replied, looking at each of the Rippners in turn. 'Reza is not dead, and within the next few days, he will be looking for you again. He has back-up arriving from Syria this week, and they must have a clue as to where you are going, because they are setting up headquarters in New York City.'

Lisa looked at Jackson, expecting more of a response, but he just nodded. 'Most of their American attacks are planned in New York. There's more anonymity in a city that large.'

Lyna shook her head. 'We have intercepted calls between Mugniyah and Reza on non-secure lines. He managed to track you all the way to Tallahassee.'

'How?' Jackson asked harshly, widening his eyes at his former associate.

'A tracking device inserted into the hem of your little wife's dress.'

As she thought back, Lisa could vaguely remember Musab fingering the edge of her dress when they were behind the counter of the Lux. Jackson squeezed her hand and nervously twisted her wedding ring—she could tell he was starting to feel his plan falling apart. Looking at his face, she saw the same rage building in those clear blue eyes that she first saw from across the Miami airport seven months earlier, which terrified her but appeared to amuse Lyna. When the Ukrainian started laughing, Lisa quickly found her way to her feet and slapped the other woman across the face.

The room was in stasis as Lyna slowly raised her hand to her face and pressed the red mark left by Lisa's hand. Within seconds, the taller woman stood and grabbed for Lisa's neck only to have Jackson break between the two of them and push them each down to where they'd been sitting. The women glared at each other from across the table as Jackson sat back down, laying his hand on Lisa's upper thigh. Lyna growled lightly as Jackson nuzzled his nose into his wife's hair, whispering something to her as she gave a dark look to Lyna.

'I think you should get off at the next stop,' Lisa said in a choked voice.

'Lisa, please...' Jackson said softly to her.

'You cannot control your woman, can you, Jack?' said Lyna, hitting her hand on the tabletop and widening her blue eyes as she grinned. 'She is stronger than you! She has not lost her professional touch just because someone stormed into her life and forced her into a fam—'

Jackson moved across the table quickly enough that Lisa didn't notice he'd left her side until his hands were already firmly clamped around Lyna's neck. With his wife trying to pull him back, Jackson just squeezed the woman's thin neck harder, annoyed by her gleeful smile.

'Just like... old times,' she gasped out before folding her body and kicking Jackson hard in the chest.

As Jackson fell back on the bed, Lyna stood and smoothed out her clothing and hair, looking down coldly at Jackson and his wife. Outside of the window, the first lights of Champaign were starting to illuminate the surroundings of the train, and as the train began to slow, its brakes squealing, Lyna picked up her rolling bag and gracefully stepped up on the bed and out into the hall. Turning to them as the train stopped, the woman gave each a cold smile.

'Good luck,' she said as people began exiting the train. 'You will need it.'

She disappeared down the hallway and Lisa quickly climbed over her husband to look down at the platform. Lyna stepped off of the train and looked back and forth before walking towards the dark station. When the train started moving away, Lisa and Lyna's eyes locked and a cold hate transferred between them before Lisa yanked the blue curtains closed and bent over her husband, who was still where Lyna had kicked him.

'Jackson...' she murmured, pushing his hair back from his face and tracing his cheekbone with the backs of her fingers.

Raising his hand slowly, he turned off the lights in the room and her view of his face was suddenly obscured by darkness. They stayed like that for a few minutes as the train rolled out of the city, her hand committing to memory every curve of his face from his long eyelashes to his full but chapped lips. As the train took a wide turn, Jackson finally sat up and put his legs under the sheets, turning onto his side and waiting for Lisa to settle down beside him. Once she lay down, she felt him unpinning her hair. The loose part of the braid tickled her neck before he removed the hair tie, reaching over her to put it on the table, and she let out a relaxed breath as his fingers ran through the braid, pulling free her curls and spreading them out on the pillow behind her. There was the sound of his cotton pyjama pants and the sheets rubbing together as he pressed himself completely against her, finally pressing his lips to the nape of her neck as his arms wrapped around her upper torso.

With her husband holding her and the gentle rocking of the train, Lisa found herself finally slipping away. As his wife relaxed in his arms, he lightly kissed her neck over and over until he could hear her snoring lightly. After a few minutes, his hand ran down her stomach and slipped under his sweater than she was wearing. His fingers rubbed lightly up and down her skin before he finally pressed his palm flat against her womb. Resting his forehead against her neck, he closed his eyes and was about to will himself to sleep when he felt a flutter underneath his hand. Lisa's hand moved to cover his and she sighed happily.

'Did you feel that, Jackson? Your son's kicking,' she said in a sleepy voice before dropping back into the early stages of sleep.

Jackson stiffened against Lisa, feeling her warm fingers lace into his as she nuzzled her face into the pillow, her breathing becoming deeper. Pressing his face into her upper back, he pulled her as close as he possibly could and for the first time in nineteen years, he cried.


	22. 16 March 2006

A/N: Those who read this the first time around might notice that Lisa's alias name is different than in the original. This would be because my very wonderful veterinarian looks like Jackson, and his wife is named Jacqueline. That, I'm afraid, is too fucking creepy for my tastes.

---

It had been a long day for Officer Israel Paxton of the Mississippi Highway Department. Besides the fact that the show _COPS _had been following one of his superiors, thus making the man heady all day, he'd had to deal with the aftermath of a mid-week fraternity party, a mad high-speed chase accompanied by clouds of marijuana that were being dumped by the pursuant, several very angry motorists with equally angry young children, and now, of all things, he came up behind a car matching the description of one missing from Florida—this really wasn't his day. He flipped his lights on and pulled the car over, running the tags against the information on the APB before getting out of his squad car and to the driver's side of the vehicle. The driver rolled down his window with a confused look on his face.

'Good morning, officer.'

Officer Paxton raised an eyebrow. 'Jackson Rippner?'

The college-aged man's confusion became ever more apparent. 'What?''

'License and registration please.'

Reaching into his back pocket, the man extracted his wallet and then looked at the officer sheepishly, extending the license. 'I don't have a new registration yet. I just got the car early this morning.'

The officer looked over the license before going back to his squad car and typing information into his computer. After a few minutes, the search on the college student came up negative for outstanding warrants, the only mars on his record related to speeding and a failure to yield. There was no denying that this car was the missing one, however, because it had the license plate of the car recovered in Tallahassee. He took his hat off and rubbed some sweat from the hatband before getting on the radio and informing headquarters that he'd found the car, sighing before he finally walked back to the driver.

'Are you aware that this car went missing from Tallahassee, Florida late last night, Mr Hartnell?' Officer Paxton asked, handing the license back to the kid.

He gaped at the officer as he raised his hands from the steering wheel. 'I swear to you I had no idea. I traded my car at like four this morning to this German guy outside of Pascagoula.'

'What was the man's name?'

'I—I don't know, Karl or something. Karl Müller. He asked me if I'd trade cars, and said he'd throw in a thousand dollars. My car was falling to sh... falling apart, so I took him up on it. I have a long way to drive to get back up to—'

'What did the man look like?'

'I dunno, pretty short, I guess. Dark hair, his bangs fell in his eyes, but I could still see them. Creepy eyes, clear blue. He was standing against his car smoking and his wife was asleep in the passenger seat. I bummed a cigarette off of him and he asked if I wanted to trade and I just said I would. Seemed like a good guy, dressed nice.'

'Are you sure his wife was asleep?'

The kid stared at him for a second. 'Wait, like... was she _asleep_ or _dead_?'

'Exactly.'

'She was asleep,' he said strongly. 'Once we got the whole thing worked out, he woke her up and was speaking German to her and she was looking all confused, but she helped him with the bags and then they got all clingy and shit. She was really pregnant.'

'Did he say what her name was?'

'Yeah, he talked about her. Liesl.'

'Did you see which direction they headed in?'

'They left before me from Pascagoula, going west on 10.'

'Listen, I'm gonna need to take you in to headquarters. The FBI's going to need to talk to you.'

'The FBI?' he asked, completely panicked.

'The man who you talked to is Jackson Rippner, who is wanted for questioning in conjunction with the yesterday's terrorist attack at the Lux Atlantic in Miami. We'll need to get a statement from you about him, the car you traded to him—'

'Wait, how will I get back up to Mass if you take my car?'

'We can work that out at the station.'

---

By the time Lisa had finally fallen asleep, the FBI had enough information to continue their investigation into the state of Louisiana. At four in the morning, the car Jackson had traded for was found in the impound lot of the New Orleans PD with a note in Lisa Rippner's handwriting assuring her father that everything was all right. After reading the police report that went along with the car, they found themselves at the airport. Working with the timing of the impound, the investigators researched flights leaving the afternoon prior, but no tickets sold seemed to apply to the Rippners. At noon, when the media started latching on to the story, however, a driver from the Jefferson Parish Transit System called in to report that a couple matching the Rippners' descriptions had been on her bus the day before but had alighted at the bus stop connecting to the Clearview Line.

From there, the police were able to find two more drivers—one who did the Huey P. Long route and another on the Marrero Express—to confirm that the Rippners curved their way from the Eastbank to the Westbank and back East. They'd got off at the Morial Convention Centre, but a concierge at a hotel a couple of blocks over called in to say that he'd been asked by a non-guest woman to order a taxi for her and her husband. He'd watched the taxi until it reached the end of the street and then turned; he figured that the taxi was heading to the Superdome or the train station, and considering the state of the Superdome, it made much more sense that the train station was the final destination for the Rippners.

It was there that the trail cooled off, however. No one could remember seeing a couple of well-dressed people matching Lisa and Jackson's descriptions. After interviewing AMTRAK employees for hours, one of the investigators went out behind the building for a smoke, and as he was about to ask a gaggle of women for a light, he heard their conversation and ended up just standing next to a dumpster.

'British?'

'Yeah, the smoothest British accent I've ever heard. Choppy dark brown hair, perfectly carved cheekbones. Glasses! His eyes were beautiful, but kind of a murky brown.'

'Well, they make contacts for that, Dana,' said the woman next to her, pausing for a drag at her cigarette. 'God, why didn't you hit that?'

'He had his wife with him, hugely pregnant, and despite being a damn flirt, he was still showing a stupid amount of affection towards her.'

The other woman groaned and knocked her head back against the brick wall of the building and all at once noticed the investigator over by the dumpster. 'Hey, you need something?'

He stepped forward meekly. 'A light?'

The one named Dana pulled a Zippo out of her uniform pocket and held it open for the man to light his cigarette with. Once he'd lit it, he leaned beside the two women and took a deep drag, exhaling as he spoke. 'Do you know who Jackson Rippner is?'

'Jackson Rippner?' the other woman asked, looking at him. 'That guy on TV?'

'Yeah,' the man replied, pulling the picture of Lisa and Jackson's wedding from his coat pocket. 'This is him with his wife Lisa back in November. We believe they left from this station yesterday afternoon. Did you see anyone who looked like either of the Rippners?'

Dana and her friend looked closely at the picture before Dana spoke. 'I didn't see the wife's hair except around her face. It was straight though, and the back of her head was pixy-cut or something because none of it was showing from under her hat. And he definitely didn't have those eyes. Damn, look at this, Stacie...'

'Where were they going?'

'Here to Chicago,' Dana said, and the man nodded curtly before dropping his cigarette and starting back to the back entrance, just to have his coat grabbed by Dana. 'And they were going on to Seattle from there.'

---

At Chicago's Union Station, Jackson stood next to Lisa as she worked out the tickets from Chicago to Albany. Today, she'd managed to get the contacts in and spent more time on her makeup, so she basically looked nothing like his wife. Her hair was straightened and pulled tightly into a clean bun at the base of her head. When they'd left the station earlier as James and Laura Rollins, dressed casually and chattering in British accents, she'd made a beeline straight for a drug store and picked up a pair of fake glasses that she now wore. He, on the other hand, had slicked his hair back but still wore the drab brown contacts and his glasses out of necessity. They were dressed in a style more befitting of professionals with Jackson in a full suit and tie and Lisa in a collared blouse and sleeveless tweed dress.

'And who are these tickets for?'

'Henry and Jane Cohen.'

Jackson started at this, but Lisa just reached out to hold his hand as the tickets printed out and Lisa paid.

'Will you be needing to have your bags checked, Mrs Cohen?'

'No, that won't be necessary, right, Henry?'

'We can handle them ourselves.'

'Of course,' the cashier said, handing the tickets over to them. 'The Metropolitan Lounge is just beyond the doors to your right. Have a pleasant trip.'

They walked away hand-in-hand, each with a full coat draped over a new rolling bag. Once inside the lounge, they had their tickets checked and were given yellow readmission passes for entering and leaving the lounge. Despite receiving a dark look from Jackson for doing so, Lisa asked the man behind the desk for temporary hold tags and their bags were taken from them except for Lisa's purse. Jackson helped Lisa shrug on her fur-lined wool coat before putting on his own. After Lisa had wrapped her scarf around her head and neck almost like a balaclava, she straightened Jackson's tie, carefully tied his scarf and pushed it down into the front of his coat, and he put a wool hat atop his head. They left the station for the second time that day, but now, the feet crunching in the fresh Chicago snow were those of Henry and Jane Cohen, former residents of Southern California, out to start a new life in Vermont before their first child was born. Ah, the Yuppie Dream.

When they'd got a block or so away from the station, Jackson walked into an alley, pulling Lisa with him as he turned to glare at her. 'How are we supposed to change our passports?'

She held up two California drivers' licenses, one with a picture of her and another with him. All of the information pointed to Newport Beach, a city on the Coast of Orange County. 'You're not the only one with connections, Jackson.'

Jackson plucked his ID from her leather-gloved fingers and looked it over. As far as he could tell, they were actual IDs issued by the state of California. As she put hers in her pocket, he memorised the information on the face of his and then put it into his wallet.

'When did you get these?'

'A couple of months ago.'

'A couple of... why didn't you tell me?'

'It was part of my agreement with my contact that I would keep these from you in case I needed to disappear on my own,' she said softly. 'He still doesn't trust you.'

'Your father?' he asked, but just got a dirty look in return. Jackson was quiet for a moment before bending down to his wife. 'Keefe. You got Charles Keefe to issue you fake IDs.'

She just nodded before pulling him back onto the snowy sidewalk lining the street, which was calm in the time between lunch and quitting time. Steam rose from the manholes running down the centre of the street and danced into the sky, disturbed only occasionally by a passing car. They walked quietly, Lisa with her arms around one of his as she smiled at the falling snow like a small child. As they walked, Jackson glanced at his surroundings, vaguely remembering that at that bar, he'd met with a man who wanted his prominent heiress wife dead so he could marry his mistress, and at that hotel, he'd met with Victoria Gifford and her husband Michael Kennedy with the threat of media exposure of a false story of statutory rape that'd been cooked up by the organisation. He couldn't help but grin at that—they hadn't quite taken his threats seriously, and it wasn't too long after that the story made it to the headlines and Kennedy was taken out. He'd always been impressed with the combined overtness and covertness of that assassination, and with current conditions, he was also pleased with the politics behind the killing.

'What's so funny?'

They'd stopped walking, and Lisa was shivering a bit against him as she waited for the crosswalk light to change. 'Just remembering things about Chicago.'

There was a tone in his voice that she didn't like, so she didn't continue as they walked across the street. 'How much longer until our train leaves?'

He pulled his hand from his pocket and shook his wrist to separate the wool sleeve and his leather glove to expose his Bvlgari. 'We can board in three hours. You're cold, so why don't we head back.'

When he looked back down at her, her scarf had slipped down from her head and she had snowflakes covering her hair. Her cheek was pressed against his upper arm, but she moved when his hand came down upon her, placing his hat slightly askew on her head.

'So, we're having a boy?'

She stiffened. 'How did you know?'

'You kindly mentioned it in your sleep last night,' he said, the tone perhaps a little colder than he'd intended.

'I... I'm sorry,' she murmured, looking across the street rather than risking meeting his eyes. 'I didn't want you to know.'

Confusion settled onto his features. 'Why?'

Closing her eyes, she sighed. 'Because I think that _Vaseline_ woman is right.'

Jackson stopped, and when Lisa kept walking, he just pulled her back to him and held her hard by the upper arms. Even with the contacts, his eyes caused the same terror to her that they did on the plane the year before. The look on his face made her flash back to the lavatory, and almost instinctively she brought her fists to her chest and let out a little scream. He quickly put one of his hands over her mouth and looked around to make sure that there was no one around to see them. A moment later, he dragged her behind a tile-covered pillar, pressing her back to it and putting his face close to hers, his breath coming in visible puffs against her cheek.

'If I'd wanted out, I'd have left ages ago and you'd never have found me,' he said harshly, grabbing her chin and making her look at him but after just a moment laying a flattened hand on one side of her face. 'Never listen to a fucking word that woman says. She's in the business of emotional manipulation.'

'So were you,' Lisa managed, speaking with a shaking voice.

His thumb jabbed into the other side of her chin. 'But not anymore.'

'This isn't the life for you,' she replied, her eyes starting to gleam from the wind that was picking up and the pain of his thumb pressing hard to her jaw. 'You're like an animal in a cage.'

He let go of her and her knees buckled, but she caught herself and grabbed the edges of the pillar, watching miserably as Jackson paced back and forth, running a leather-gloved hand through his gelled hair with the other held firmly to his hip. Her eyes followed his movements as she smoothed out her coat and retied her scarf over her head, taking Jackson's hat in her hands and rubbing at the edge of the brim.

'Stop pacing, you're driving me crazy,' she said, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder, but he hit her arm away, only to have her grab his wrist and put his hat back on top of his head. 'Will you just listen to me?'

He looked at her condescendingly, but appeared to be listening.

'You're not a family man,' she said softly, reaching up to rub the side of his face. 'It's too awkward for you because you're always so paranoid and can't get attached to people. I don't know how you were able to trust me, but I do know that there's no one else that you let in.'

'I'm working on it,' he strained to say, keeping the same condescending look on his face.

She shook her head. 'If you have to try too hard, then it's not worth it. It's not natural.'

'What are you saying?' he asked, lightly pressing a hand to her waist. 'For someone who was so dead-set on starting something...'

Pressing a finger to his lips, she continued. 'I just want you to think about it, all right? I don't want to be the reason why you're not doing something you love.'

'Don't overestimate your part in this,' he said to her. 'I was planning to quit before I met you.'

'But you were probably planning to run off to a beach somewhere and live alone, far away from everyone and everything.'

He thought for a moment. 'I'm not sure what I was planning to do. Having a family wasn't at the front of my mind, but I've never lied to you.'

People started pouring out of the building in front of which they stood, so they just stood staring at each other with people jostling around them. As the crowd thinned out and cars began appearing on the street, honking, Jackson ran his hand up and down her waist with an unreadable look on his face. Lisa's eyes dropped.

'I heard you crying last night,' she said hesitantly.

At that point, he tried to walk away from her, but she held strong to his wrist.

'Look at me in the eyes and tell me it wasn't my fault.'

He turned and looked at her. 'I can't lie to your face.'

---

The call to Chicago from the New Orleans branch of the FBI came too late to stop the train to Seattle, but once it was contacted by satellite phone, it made its way back from the middle of nowhere Wisconsin, finally arriving shortly before a huge group of agents stormed the station. The agents stood by the front door, checking the IDs of every single person entering and leaving, each armed with the wedding picture of Jackson and Lisa. Once a group of agents boarded the previously Seattle-bound train, all of the doors were locked down and guarded by gun bearing assault agents as the on-board agents went through the entire train. After a half-hour, however, it was found that 'James and Laura Rollins' had never boarded the train and a scouring of security tapes began.

After seeing the agents at the front doors, Jackson, who had been out getting hot drinks in the food court, walked sleekly back to the first class lounge where Lisa was lying on one of the couches reading _People_. Setting the cups on the table, he sat down beside her, speaking in low tones as he scanned the room.

'The FBI is here,' he said in a harsh whisper. 'We need to get out where there are more people.'

She made a move to stand quickly, but he held her down.

'Act naturally,' he murmured, standing and helping her to her feet. 'They're going to be looking for people acting abnormally.'

They walked slowly from the lounge, Jackson looking straight ahead as he talked to Lisa about some stock he'd recently bought a lot of shares of and squeezing her arm whenever she stared too long at an agent. He took them straight to the food court and they settled at a table in front of the Starbucks, Jackson silently thankful that it was the dinner hour. After about fifteen minutes, the agents in the food area hadn't made a move to interrogate anyone, so while Jackson buried his face in a newspaper, Lisa went up to get burritos for them from the Moe's. She shifted her weight from side to side, keeping track of the agents in her peripheral vision as she waited in line.

'Next!'

Lisa stayed still until the person behind her touched her shoulder and pointed to the cashier. She moved hesitantly to the register and gave a smile to the teenage cashier.

'Hi, I'd like an Art Vandelay and a Joey Bag of Donuts,' she said to him and was about to start the personalisation when another hand landed on her shoulder.

'Excuse me, ma'am. May I ask you a few questions?'

Looking up slowly, Lisa was terrified to come face-to-face with a short FBI agent. He flashed his badge and she nodded, keeping her face emotionless.

'Of course.'

'This will only take a moment,' he said, leading her to the side and holding up the picture of Jackson and herself. 'Have you seen either of these people, Missus...?'

'Jane Cohen,' she replied, her mouth dry as she fumbled in her pocket for her identification and pretended to study the picture. 'No, I haven't seen them.'

Taking her identification, he held it against the photo, but Lisa was happy to see it wasn't for comparison. She relaxed as he handed the ID back, smiling at her.

'So, are you coming from California today?'

'I've been here for a couple of days,' she lied, slipping the ID back in her pocket and pressing her hands on the sides of her stomach. 'My husband and I are moving to New Hampshire and he made me take the train because of my condition.'

'Mr Cohen isn't with you today?'

'No, no, he flew out to New Hampshire a week or so ago to get things ready there. Henry doesn't have the free time to spend on a train ride,' Lisa replied naturally, making a point not to look anywhere towards the table across the room where her husband sat. 'I miss him, but I'll see him tomorrow morning, so everything's wonderful.'

'That's good,' the agent said, putting the picture of Jackson and Lisa back into his jacket pocket. 'You're taking the train to...?'

'New York City,' she said, remembering a soon-departing train bound for Penn Station. 'Henry's in the City for business, so we're meeting there and taking the train up to Boston.'

At that moment, an announcement came through the station. 'Announcing the boarding of train 50 of the Cardinal Line bound for New York's Penn Station. All passengers should head immediately to the platform for departure. Please have identifications and tickets available.'

'That would be my train,' she said, pretending to dig in her purse for tickets.

'Of course,' the agent said. 'Sorry to keep you from your dinner, but because Mrs Rippner is pregnant, we're being safe and asking every—'

He was interrupted by his walkie-talkie fizzling. 'We have video of the Rippners leaving Union Station. All agents please report to security to be reassigned to areas within Chicago for search.'

'Excuse me, Mrs Cohen. Have a safe trip.'

'Thank you,' Lisa said, watching him leave the food court before meeting Jackson's eyes over his newspaper and walking down to the lounge on the lower floor.

When she reached the lounge, there was an announcement for their train, which left ten minutes after the one bound for New York. Lisa waited as long as she felt safe before getting on queue again, being pointed towards her departure platform by a porter who called someone over to help her with her bags. Jackson was still nowhere to be found, however, and as the porter carried her luggage up to her bedroom, her soul sank. What if an agent coming back from his post in the station had seen her husband? Lisa's face was easy to disguise, especially softened as it was by pregnancy, but Jackson had a very distinct look. As the platform emptied, she scanned it up and down trying to find him, but all she saw were rail employees. Once the car attendants stepped on the train and picked up the little stands by the doors, she could hear the doors shut and lock, and within moments, the train lurched forward and Lisa felt more alone than she had in months.

The Chicago landscape passed slowly, mostly obscured by snow, and all Lisa could do was stare out of the window until the urban area passed and there was a knock on the open door.

'Excuse me, ma'am, I'm...' the attendant started before noticing that Lisa was crying. 'Oh...'

She went over and sat beside Lisa on the couch, wrapping her arms around the sobbing woman. Lisa graciously accepted the affection and pressed herself to the attendant's bosom, trying to calm herself and formulate a story, but the attendant didn't ask anything.

'How about you let me check your ticket now and I'll have the conductor leave you alone, okay honey?' she said, taking Lisa's identification and ticket off of the table and tearing it at the perforation. 'Would you like me to go ahead and make your bed for you, baby?'

Lisa nodded and the woman let her go, leading her over to the seat in the compartment before pulling down the couch into a bed and the bunk down to retrieve the sheets, mattress pad, and pillows for Lisa. After she'd made the bed, she stepped into the hallway.

'I'll send someone down with something for you to drink. What would you like?'

'A Seabreeze,' she said dryly, fingering the zipper on her bag before looking up at the woman, who was giving her a sympathetic smile. 'Milk would be great.'

The attendant closed the door and Lisa immediately changed into pyjamas. Curling up in the foetal position on the soft bed, she pulled the covers up to her chin and sighed. For the life of her, she couldn't think why Jackson would be possessed with the idea that leaving her to her own devices would be safer for them. There was the sound of a passing crossing klaxon and red light flashed into the compartment for a second, illuminating Lisa's reflection in the full-length mirror across from the bed; she turned around, pushing herself across to the wall and drifting off, tortured with the thought of abandonment.

By the time the attendant returned with her carton of milk, Lisa had fallen asleep.


	23. 17 March 2006

A/N: Happy almost New Year from Newport Beach, California!

---

'Good evening, Miami. This is Maria Gonzales, in tonight for Annette Peterson, your regular night anchor,' the camera view toggled a bit. 'The big question on every person's mind tonight is _"where is Lisa Rippner?"_ Since the terrorist attack on the Lux Atlantic two days ago, the pregnant wife of formerly suspected assassin Jackson Rippner has been missing along with her husband.

'Earlier tonight, we reported here on channel seven that the FBI had traced the Rippners to Chicago and believed that they were on the way to Seattle. In the last few hours, however, there have been new developments and it is now known that they did not board their train to Washington. They were last seen leaving Chicago's Union Station early this morning.'

The picture changed to a video of Lisa and Jackson dressed grungily, exiting the marble foyer of the train station. Lisa kept her sight trained on the outside as though she had a mission, but Jackson was looking around and shot a glance at the camera before stepping out behind his wife.

'Investigators are now searching the greater Chicago area for the Rippners,' Maria said, flipping papers before looking back up at the teleprompter. 'In related news, the terrorist organisation Hezbollah has officially accepted responsibility for the attack on the Lux Atlantic, stating that the intended target was Lisa Rippner for her halting of August's attempted assassination of Charles Keefe, the Deputy Secretary of Homeland Security. In response, Deputy Secretary Keefe has upgraded Hezbollah on the terrorist watch-list and the manhunt for Musab Reza and Dr Elisabeth Millwood, now suspected of involvement with Hezbollah, has widened.'

Four pictures appeared on the screen: Millwood's mug shot which was taken shortly before her jail break, Reza's picture from the abandoned passport found in his room at the Lux Atlantic, and new pictures of Lisa and Jackson taken from the security video in Chicago.

'If you have any information about any of these four people, please contact the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Rewards are currently being offered for the Rippners' safe returns and any information leading to the arrests of Millwood and Reza. The FBI has received a tip from Cynthia Browning, Assistant Manager of the Lux Atlantic, which leads them to believe that Reza may be in the New York City area and that Elisabeth Millwood may be with him. In addition to Chicago, police are alerting people in Dallas, Miami, Detroit, New York City and Albany to be on the look out for the Rippners, as they have family in all of those metro areas.'

Joe sighed as he rubbed Alfie's back and the cat kneaded his leg soothingly. The news went on about the search for Lisa and Jackson, showing clips of interviews of people in New Orleans and Chicago. As they showed a video from Chicago, however, Joe jumped a bit, which earned a hiss from Alfie, and paused the TiVo. Rewinding it slowly, he watched as his daughter walked behind one of the people being interviewed, looking around uncomfortably and wearing glasses with her hair tied back. As far as he could tell, Jackson wasn't with her and that terrified him.

He picked up the phone, looking at a number written on a Post-It note pressed against the side table. The person on the other end answered quickly.

'Albert Hadamitzky.'

'Agent, this is Joe Reisert. I was just watching the evening news here in Miami and they showed an interview in Chicago,' Joe said quickly, looking at the paused frame of his daughter. 'And walking behind the person was Lisa in disguise.'

'Can you tell where she is in the station?'

He scanned the picture, trying to see something that looked familiar or at least had a name on it. Up in the right hand corner, just above the interviewee's head, he could see enough letters to jog his memory about the couple of times he'd been to Union Station. 'The Metropolitan Lounge. She's about to go in there.'

There was the sound of a pencil scratching across paper. 'And you're sure it was Lisa?'

'Definitely, I'd recognise Leese anywhere.'

'I'll contact the Chicago field office,' he said, and was about to hang up when he spoke again. 'Was Jackson with her?'

Sighing, Joe spoke before hanging up. 'No, she's alone.'

---

When the train jarred sharply, Lisa's head banged into the armrest and she sat up quickly, holding her head. The room spun a little from the head rush, but in a moment, she was lucid enough to look out and realise that they'd just stopped at the Erie station. She groaned a bit and reached out to feel for Jackson before remembering that he wasn't there. Her eyes fell on the milk container settled in a bed of ice in the sink and she climbed onto her knees, her stomach grumbling, took the container and downed it before taking Jackson's sweater and her glasses and throwing them on. As the train jostled forward again, she made her way into the hallway and walked carefully towards the dining car, hoping there'd be some food left over from dinner.

By the time she reached the dining car, the train had entered the dark span between Buffalo and Rochester. Only AMTRAK employees were sitting in the car, and as Lisa settled herself in a booth, the attendant from her car walked over and sat across from her.

'Hello, Mrs Cohen. Did you sleep well?'

Lisa smiled at her, curling her fingers around the ends of the sleeves of Jackson's sweater. 'Please, call me Jane, and I slept very well, thank you.'

'Jane, Sharena. You want something to eat?'

'That would be great.'

Sharena got up and walked off to the preparation area, returning shortly with a plate of ravioli and a roll. She settled across from Lisa again. 'When are you due?'

Because she'd just taken a bite, Lisa placed a hand over her mouth to speak. 'The end of June. My husband and I decided to move out to New Hampshire before the baby's born.'

When Lisa looked up at Sharena, the woman was giving her a disbelieving look. After looking around at the car, which was now devoid of anyone but the woman and Lisa, she leaned forward and spoke softly. 'I know who you are, baby. You're Lisa Rippner, that woman who's missing from Miami.'

Lisa froze and started nervously pushing ravioli around the plate, staring at Sharena the whole time as her hand started straying to her knife. 'Listen, I...'

'Don't worry, I won't tell,' she said, suddenly looking behind Lisa. 'After all, someone had to let him on the train.'

Lisa turned slowly and caught sight of her husband peeking around the wall next to the stairs that led to the kitchen on the first level of the train. She jumped to her feet and ran to him, squeezing him tightly. He rubbed her back softly and buried his nose in her hair as she grabbed fistfuls of the crisp fabric of the AMTRAK uniform he was wearing. Without a word, he led her back to the table.

'Eat.'

'Jackson, why didn't you board the train with me? Oh God, I was so worried!'

In response, he just pushed her plate closer to her and stared at her with contact-less eyes. Once she began to eat again, he leaned against the table and looked at the attendant across the table from them.

'You're a saint,' he said with a yawn.

'Anything for you, honey,' the woman said, reaching out to slap Jackson's arm. 'Fuck the Society, anything between Sharena Douglas and Jackson Rippner is personal.'

Lisa gave Jackson a confused look, but he just smiled at Sharena. 'Is everything set up for us in Albany?'

Sharena nodded. 'Pick up the keys at the lost and found. The car's on the second storey of the parking garage with all of the information you need under the driver's seat. Melissa—'

Suddenly standing, Jackson looked down at the black woman and nodded a bit towards the kitchen. They both walked off with Lisa watching them and Jackson began heatedly whispering to Sharena about something, just to have her cross her arms and glare at him. Lisa looked between them, but at this point, she figured it was better to just stop asking questions. As Sharena and Jackson spoke in lowered voices, she finished her dinner and watched rural New York pass by in the soft glow of pre-dawn. The two people stopped talking, and Lisa turned to find them both standing by the booth looking at her.

'Well, honey, the chefs are gonna want to come cook breakfast, so it'd probably be better if you and baby-girl go back to your bedroom for some sleep,' Sharena said sweetly. 'We got about five hours 'til we get into Albany.'

Jackson watched Lisa scoot out of the booth before taking her hand and steadying her as they left the dining car. Their sleeper was three lengths down, and once they got there, Jackson shed the AMTRAK uniform and changed into his pyjamas as Lisa closed all of the curtains and velcroed them shut. Once it was dark in the room, Jackson turned on the classical music that was piped through the train and curled up in bed. When Lisa pressed herself against him and wrapped her arms around his chest, he just rubbed her arm a bit, still very obviously tense from whatever he and Sharena had been talking about.

After a few minutes she gave up on affection, turning her back to him and falling asleep in the bluish glow cast through the curtains.

---

'What the fuck...' murmured a security guard at Union Station as he reviewed the night's security tapes. Tapping at a few keys, he raised an eyebrow before picking up the phone on his desk to call the Chicago PD. 'Yeah, hey, this is Erichs in security at Union Station... I've been reviewing the tapes from the departures last night, and right before train 48 left for Albany, one of the security tapes went out and then came back on ten minutes later when the train had already left.'

He listened to the woman on the other end.

'Yeah, I'll send someone to check it, I'm just saying I think we should inform the FBI,' again, he listened. 'If you'll handle that, I'll handle checking out the camera.'

Miles away in New York City, Elisabeth Millwood smiled against the receiver. 'Yeah, no problem, I'll tell the FBI. It's probably nothing though. This place was crawling with agents last night, so they would have caught anyone fitting the descriptions of the Rippners.'

'You're probably right. Well, I'll go check the camera anyway, and I'll call you guys if I find anything odd.'

'Thanks,' Millwood said before hanging up the phone.

'Do we have confirmation, Elisabeth?' asked Reza from across the room, where he was smoking a cigar.

She crossed the room quickly, ripped the cigar from his hand and put it out in the already-full ashtray. 'Those things will kill you.'

He grinned. 'Confirmation?'

'Yes, they're going to Albany rather than Seattle. Rippner took out one of the security cameras on the platform in Chicago right before train 48 left,' she said, grinning back at him. 'I suppose we should head on to Penn Station, then.'

'We are not doing anything without discussing the issue with Mugniyah,' he replied with finality to the doctor. 'You moved without his permission and look what happened. If you had not attempted the attack early, Jackson Rippner would already be dead and we would not have to be orchestrating this kidnapping.'

'Fadlallah likes it better like this,' Elisabeth said hissingly, walking away from him. 'Something this big draws more attention to the cause.'

Musab grimaced, recognising the truth behind her statement, but he wasn't about to give in to this. 'It is because it is so big that we must wait for Mugniyah's permission. Rippner is still upset, and if we do not give him time to calm down, he will most likely thwart our attempts to take his wife away.'

Millwood stood across the room, looking out of the window onto the south end of Central Park, which backed up to the road in front of the apartment building. 'It would probably make more sense to wait until his wife is weaker also. I think we underestimated her strength.'

Reza nodded, striding over to pick up the phone. He punched in the well-rang number, listening to it connect through the block used to protect them from tapping. After several rings, someone finally answered.

'Mugniyah, salaam. it's Reza. The Rippners are in Albany.'


	24. 23 April 2006

A little over a month later, Elisabeth Millwood sat on a Metro-North subway car with a bag from Grand Central Market sitting next to her. In her hands she held an Arabic-language newspaper from Hudson News, but she was quickly growing bored with the drab news. Mugniyah and Reza had discussed the new plans for Lisa's abduction at great length, and although Mugniyah had originally sided more with Millwood regarding how soon the operation would take place, once their intelligence around Chicago told of the focus on New York City and the Upstate, Millwood and Reza were told to lay low. They'd taken up residence in their respective apartments, Millwood in Midtown and Reza in Murray Hill, and Elisabeth had honestly not seen Reza for at least two weeks.

Millwood had grown increasingly paranoid in the last few days; she could have sworn that more NYPD were crawling around her normal haunts. It didn't help that she wasn't extremely familiar with _this_ part of the City, having only spent a few months over the last eight years in the Hezbollah-held Trump Parc apartment—she typically spent heaps of time between Grand Central Station and Central Park with the occasional jaunt into SoHo for a shopping trip at MUJI, always avoiding the Village. The depleting public focus on the Rippner disappearance, however, made her uncomfortable. As the public interest caved in, the investigators had more time to pursue real leads from people who were honestly interested in the case, and it was that reason specifically that she took a different train from her weekly shopping trip to Grand Central.

In all honesty, she'd become quite lost on her way home. Inwardly panicked by an obvious FBI agent making his way towards her, she'd simply got on the closest train, nearly making it to Flushing Meadows Park before finally exiting the subway and finding her way back to the R line. Her train had just crossed over Roosevelt Island when she noticed someone moving towards her. He settled next to her grocery bag, opening a copy of Newsweek.

'Reza.'

'Millwood.'

They were silent as an announcement came over the speakers. 'Lexington Avenue-59th Street.'

Reza stood, leaving the magazine and a small paper bag on the seat behind him. As he left, Millwood smoothly picked up the copy of Newsweek and dropped the bag into her bag, folding up her newspaper and slipping it in her grocery bag with the magazine in the centre. Her stop was the next, at 57th Street and 7th Avenue, so she stood and held onto the overhead bar with a hand loosely grasping the twine handle of her grocery bag. Once the train stopped, she alone alighted, pulling the Newsweek out and scanning through it with narrowed eyes. A few pages in, there was a little piece of paper she recognised as being from Kate's Paperie just a block away from her apartment, and upon it there was a short message written in spindly Arabic. She disposed of the magazine.

As she walked up the stairs to exit the station, a blast of cold April air hit her, so she paused to adjust her scarf and heard the telltale sound of a gun cocking. It was something she stereotypically expected from New York, so she took a couple of hesitant steps upward until a powerful voice spoke from beside the LCD screen flashing bright ads on her from the upper railings of the exit.

'Elisabeth Annette Millwood,' the female voice said, and more guns cocked. 'Put your hands up.'

Millwood hesitated, but as she heard one of the agents behind her moving, she dropped her grocery bag and everything went tumbling down the stairs. She took a chance, and assuming that they would be thrown off, she drove a hand into her pocket and pulled out a tiny automatic she kept there. Turning quickly, she held a stance only to find that there were more agents than she thought there would be. A couple more appeared down in the station, kicking past a broken mustard jar and a few bruised vegetables. Millwood backed up, catching the heel of her boot on the jagged concrete and falling onto her tailbone, which in turn made her discharge a bullet into the LCD screen. It fizzled and one of the agents shot, hitting her in the shoulder. Her gun clattered down the stairs and was scooped up by one of the agents in the station.

'You are wanted for questioning in the disappearance of Jackson and Lisa Rippner,' said the female agent who first spoke to Millwood.

'Fuck you,' Millwood hissed, grabbing at her shoulder where crimson blood was seeping through her camel coat. She tried to push herself up a couple of steps but lost her grip and slipped back down, her hair catching on a gap in the step and falling out of the bun she'd put it in that morning.

The agents from down in the station walked up to her, keeping their guns trained on her in case she was hiding another weapon in her coat. Her grey eyes were crazed and watched their every move before she put out a bloody hand and turned over, dragging herself up the stairs. The stain on her shoulder increased and the blood started to drip on the stairs, blurring into the dirty snow on the edges. Reaching out with her uninjured side, she took the rail and pulled herself to her feet before unbuttoning her coat and pulling a knife from a holder on her hip. Screaming, she threw herself at what she believed was the weaker of the two agents, stabbing blindly at the man and rolling down the stairs.

The agents up on the street spilled into the station as the molested agent tried to pin the rabid doctor under him. They rolled over and over, Millwood leaving streaks of blood on the concrete as she pressed the knife to his throat. Once they hit a pillar, Millwood straddled him and held the knife far above her head. Before she could drive it into his chest however, shots rang through the concrete station and Millwood fell backwards onto the man's legs. The agents swarmed to them, the agent under her being helped up as the AIC phoned in for an ambulance for Millwood.

One of the agents dropped to Millwood's side and looked at her as she weakly coughed blood, a stream running from the edge of her mouth and pooling around by her ear. They laid her out straight, propping her legs up on a rolled up coat as a siren sounded close to the station.

'We need to know where Jackson and Lisa Rippner are and what Hezbollah is planning to do with them.'

Millwood smiled a bit, her fingers curling slightly before she spit blood in the agent's face. She blinked slowly as the agent was pushed aside by medics who began giving her air and trying to get the bleeding to slow. It was only moments before she went into shock, however, and before they could even bring a stretcher in to place her on, her eyes closed and Elisabeth Millwood was dead.

---

In the morgue that night, a mortuary assistant watched with incredible amounts of boredom and distaste as a sheet-covered body was rolled past where he was sitting watching a portable television. Things had been relatively slow, so he'd been lulled into a false sense of security and therefore pulled into watching some episode of the Simpsons that he'd seen so many times, he was sure he couldn't actually count the number on his fingers any longer. He stood, waiting for the investigator and medics to leave, but was surprised to have the lead investigator remain behind. After turning off the television and snapping on latex gloves, he went over and started to take the sheet off of the body when the investigator suddenly put her hand over his.

'Isabella di Matteo, FBI,' she said, pulling out her identification. 'This woman is Elisabeth Millwood, the doctor who was charged with attempted murder in Miami late last year and escaped from prison back in late February. She was believed to have ties with Hezbollah and therefore intelligence on the whereabouts of Jackson and Lisa Rippner. Because of the sensitivity of this, I will be overseeing the preparations for autopsy and the autopsy itself.'

He nodded. 'All right... um... right now, I'll be removing and bagging her clothes and other personal articles, and after that not much is going to happen until the pathologist gets here later in the morning.'

'She's been called already and is on her way in,' di Matteo said, taking off her jacket and putting it on the chair the assistant had been sitting in previously.

'Well,' he said, raising his eyebrows and looking at the sheet. 'I guess I better get my job done before she gets here then.'

He removed the sheet, exposing the bloody mess of Elisabeth Millwood. Her mostly grey hair was caked with vaguely gelatinous drying blood and her ajar mouth was solidly red. Her right side was peppered with bullet holes, and a less serious wound on her left shoulder had dried more than the others. The assistant undid the top button of her coat, the only one that hadn't been unbuttoned by Millwood herself before her final assault, and with well-practised movements removed the coat, leaving Millwood clad in a white blouse, ankle-length black skirt, and boots. He carefully unbuttoned the blouse after setting the coat on another examination table next to the evidence bag and was more than pleased to find that Millwood had a front-clasping bra. As he began undressing her, di Matteo walked over, popped on latex gloves, and started looking through the coat. She dug through the pockets, finding just gum wrappers, change and Millwood's wallet.

They both looked up as the medical examiner walked in looking incredibly flustered, her cheeks red from the windy New York night. She threw her purse on the desk next to the television and strode to a coat rack where her lab coat was hanging. After tying back her hair, she gave a nod to di Matteo and went to her assistant, pulling on gloves as she walked.

'So, what can you tell me?'

'Elisabeth Annette Millwood, age 56, killed by federal agents at the 57th and 7th subway station forty-five minutes ago.'

'Millwood, eh? She must have done something pretty drastic for you to kill her.'

'She attacked an agent with a knife.'

'Will you be overseeing the entire autopsy?'

The doctor didn't look at her, but she knew that di Matteo was nodding as she look out her standard-issue police notebook, still picking through Millwood's coat. The examiner's assistant finished taking off Millwood's boots and set them on the table in front of di Matteo with all of the other clothes. There was a click as the examiner started her tape.

'23 April 2006, 23:18. Dr Chitose Wakahara, assisted by Tristan Barrington and viewed by Field Agent Isabella di Matteo of the Federal Bureau of Investigation,' she looked at Millwood's drivers license, which had just been laid out by di Matteo. 'Elisabeth Annette Millwood, age 56, of Miami, Florida. Cause of death is ruled as being multiple gunshot wounds to the torso during apprehension.'

As Dr Wakahara droned on, making vocal notes as her assistant took photographs of Millwood's body. Di Matteo blocked out the sound, instead picking her way carefully through Millwood's belongings, which were recovered from the scene. There was the dirty Arabic-language newspaper with little notes here and there in Millwood's hand, a few undamaged items from her shopping bag including a couple filled prescriptions that were wrapped snugly in another paper bag, and a purse that was empty except for a container of mints, a tube of lipstick and a ticket stub from an opera that took place a few nights before. Holding the prescriptions with three small bottles in one hand and a small and large one in another, she read over the names: venlafaxine 250 mg, propylthiouracil 50 mg, zolpidem 5 mg, esomeprazole 20 mg, estradiol 1 mg.

Setting them in a line in front of her, di Matteo pushed the other evidence to the side and began taking the tops off of the bottles and dumping the contents noisily onto the metal table, quickly picking through the myriad pills and being disappointed to find nothing questionable amongst them. Thinking for a long moment, she sorted them, separating the esomeprazole, venlafaxine, and propylthiouracil, all caplets, from the others. Randomly picking up a reddish venlafaxine, she slowly twisted it open, expecting a bunch of tiny spheres to come out. Instead, as she removed one half, a solid yet crinkled capsule-shaped pod stuck out. Carefully, she pulled it out and unwrapped it, gasping a bit as she found it to be a scrap of paper with what she thought to be Arabic written on it. She hastily picked up every venlafaxine and dropped them back into their bottle, closing the top. A fast check of the other two kinds of caplets revealed that they were normal pills, so she took just the one large bottle and left, giving the agents stationed outside of the morgue an excited look as she shook the bottle.

'I found a message,' she said. 'Johnson, come with me, we need to get down to headquarters. Call Zahirah; we need an Arabic translator _immediately_.'

---

Zahirah Mahmoud-Pinte walked into the FBI field office at the end of Manhattan nearly three hours later. She was a commuting contract worker, always taking the AMTRAK from the Poughkeepsie rail station when she was called in, and usually by the time she got into New York City, she'd have translated a few pages, which was enough to keep the agents busy until she finished the rest. Tonight was different, however. She'd been called in, but they couldn't fax her any part of the job and the last train to New York City had already left almost four hours earlier. Armed with a map and the general idea that she had to go south, she trekked her way to Manhattan and got entangled in a myriad of one-way streets, crazy taxi drivers and drunks—she'd never before been so happy to see the familiar building.

The lobby was dark, but a single night watchman let her in and she went up to the floor that housed the field office. There was a surprising number of field agents for such an ungodly time in the morning, but considering the desperate tone in Angela Johnson's voice when she'd called, Zahirah figured it was a pretty important case. Without a word, Johnson walked up and took her by the arm, leading her to a lab where di Matteo stood perched by a table with empty gel caps strewn across it and a bunch of ripped pieces of paper.

'Zahirah,' di Matteo said with relief. 'I'm sure that even in Poughkeepsie you've heard about the Rippner case, yes?'

'Of course,' Zahirah replied with a smooth voice that contained both Arabic and British accents. 'There has been much notice of the case within the Arab-American community, as we are afraid that the actions of these few will cause problems for many of us.'

Di Matteo gave her a sympathetic look, but this was a time for pure business. 'One of the suspects, Elisabeth Millwood, was killed tonight here in Manhattan. We went through her belongings and came across a bottle of paper scraps hidden in Effexor capsules.'

Zahirah came around to look at the mess of scraps, which had all been carefully ironed out and laid across the table. None of the people in the field office had Arabic skills and it was apparent by the nonsense words thrown together in an attempt to put the puzzle together. Pulling a pair of gloves from beside the table, she snapped them on and her aquamarine eyes danced across the curly letters of her native language. With the speed of an expert, she matched edges and words, finally piecing the legal-length note back together fifteen minutes later. Johnson and di Matteo were ecstatic and put a piece of glass over the completed note to keep it all from flying off. Zahirah dropped her gloves into the wastebasket and picked up a China marker, bending over the note and moving her lips soundlessly as she read.

There was tension in the room as the Afghani woman marked here and there, her face growing more and more confused as she went down the page. 'This... doesn't make any sense. It's in code.'

'Dammit,' di Matteo muttered, crossing her arms over her chest and looking at the tile floor. 'Just... just get us a literal translation and we'll send it off to our code breakers.'

Zahirah gave her a sad look before glancing back down at the letter. 'It's not that kind of code. It's all word play... it just makes no sense. Lipograms, kennings... I'm not qualified to do this. You'll need to find an Arabic-speaking code breaker.'

Johnson and di Matteo looked at each other for a moment before Johnson left the room to call the FBI Headquarters in Washington, DC.

'Isabella,' Zahirah said, leaning in close to the glass to circle areas in red China marker. 'There are numbers hidden in here. I thought that they were just regular letters but... here.'

Zahirah pointed at one of her circles.

'This looks like the letter _'alif_, but the bottom part of the letter is lighter than the rest of the letter...' she murmured, running the China marker close to the glass. 'Without the curl on the top, it becomes the symbol for the number one. The letter _siin_ here is lighter until the curve at the end, so that's the number three.'

'Are they dates?'

'I'm not sure,' Zahirah said with a loud sigh, setting the marker down. 'Hopefully the code breakers can figure it out.'


	25. 1 May 2006

A/N: Wheee, this chapter of Bejerot took place on my 21st birthday XB. Also, a scene from the last part of the chapter is illustrated and can be found on my devART -- my username there is simplytonks.

---

At first, all of Lisa's unbalance made Jackson laugh uncontrollably, but after she almost fell down the stairs and dislocated her shoulder when he caught her, he quickly became almost eerily clingy. When she'd go into town to pick up groceries at PriceChopper, he'd hold the keys from her so she'd be forced to take him with her and as she shopped, he'd stay close enough that she could feel his body heat. At night, when she'd leave to take a little walk around the Bennington Battle Monument down the street, he would catch up with her before she was even two houses away no matter how quietly she left. Whenever she had a few moments away from him, even if it was just when he'd leave her at the café at the centre of town to go into Chittenden Bank across the street, she would take a cathartic sigh and relax. He had her more wound up than the prospect of being kidnapped by Islamic militants.

In addition to the near-stalking her husband was imposing upon her, Lisa worried about his sanity. She hadn't noticed it before, but he had a very addictive personality. Although it had only manifest itself in the cleanliness of their condo before, now it was applying to everything. They kept a strict schedule, he had a certain way he wanted everything laid out including everything in the cupboards, and there wasn't a particle of dust anywhere in the entire house. More negatively, his obsession was starting to spread to vices. He'd drink heavily in the Dog's Breath Bar when she was waiting for him in the café, believing he was at the bank. They were spending more and more time with graduate student friends at Bennington but never together: whilst she sat out on the couches watching Family Guy with her friend Antonia, he'd be behind a towelled door smoking high-quality hashish with the house chair and her friends. She guiltily enjoyed the time after his cannabis meetings; he became incredibly affectionate with her, and many times they had incredible make-out sessions on the couch that made everything feel worth it.

On the last night of April, the couple walked along Monument Avenue, both clad in heavy coats and boots to block the oddly late cold weather. There had been nearly a foot of snow in the last week, which was wonderful for Mount Snow but miserable for the citizens of Bennington who were all ready for spring. A lot of the chimneys along their street were smoking, and as they reached the overlook, they could see a bonfire burning at the End of the World on the Bennington College campus. The next day was May Day, and there were flyers all around town posted by the college about the big parties the students were planning. Lisa smiled, thinking back to her college days, and then stepped up on the stony wall at the edge of the overlook.

Jackson put out a hand and she took it, holding out her arms to keep herself balanced. The icy snow crunched under her feet.

'Jackson.'

He looked up at her. 'Hm?'

'What are we going to do after the baby's born? We can't stay hiding forever.'

She turned and he took both of her hands, stepping back so she could jump down in front of him. 'I'm counting on interest petering out.'

'Does that happen with terrorist organisations?'

He shrugged a little as she walked away from him. She crossed the street and stood under the statue at the base of the battle monument, looking up at the bronze man and the slightly cloudy beyond. He stayed where he was as she walked along in a circle, her hands shoved in her pockets, holding the fabric tightly against her stomach. Jackson couldn't help but smile as his eyes traced the wide arc, but the smile quickly faded when she dropped to the ground. After running across the street, he caught his foot on the curb and fell, getting a face full of snow, but made it to his knees and crawled over to her. Lisa just gave him an odd glance before looking back up at the sky.

She sighed, releasing a puff of white into the air. 'Do you sometimes feel like we did everything too quickly?'

Jackson was still poised next to her, wrist-deep in snow, his breath coming in short puffs and a look of panic and anger apparent on his face. 'What?'

Her face turned to look at him again. 'At this time last year, I had just been promoted to head manager of the Lux Atlantic, I lived in an apartment alone with my cat in Miami, and I went out for a drink every now and then, but mostly just had a laid-back existence. Now I'm on the run from terrorists, pregnant and married.'

He laughed a little, relaxing onto his elbow. 'This time last year, I was planning the assassination of Ihab al-Sherif. Now I'm playing husband in Vermont.'

'We've known each other for less than a year,' she said, slightly exasperated. 'What has it been, eight months?'

'I've known _you_ for almost ten,' he said snarkily. 'Having second doubts? You're about seven months late for that.'

In the clear light of the moon, he could see her brow knit before she looked into his icy eyes. They stared at each other for a few minutes before Jackson finally laid on his back next to her, taking her left hand into his right. There was something different in their touch, something that neither of them could understand. Lisa felt a fleeting terror in the pit of her stomach, but she brushed it off as the baby kicking, pressing a hand to her stomach. The baby was apparently very unhappy about being woken up by his mother's drop to the ground and was not about to stop kicking until getting his point across.

She hummed lightly, which made Jackson turn his head and watch her. Her hand ran up and down as she closed her eyes, her hand relaxing in his as she tried to calm the child in her womb. Rolling onto his side, bending their arms up so that their hands touched her shoulder, he laid his left hand next to hers and laid his head on her chest, listening to her heartbeat. Her fingers laced into his and she released the hand by her shoulder, choosing to rub his back instead.

Pressing his lips to the top of her stomach, he sang breathily along to her humming and she was surprised at the purity of his voice. Together, their hands moved over their fitful baby, and his kicks slowed. Once he appeared to be at the end of his fit, Jackson stopped singing, Lisa stopped humming, and the night became silent once more.

'I wish it could stay this way.'

Lisa was surprised at her husband's statement and just rubbed his back harder, slightly upset at the finality of the sentence. 'What do you know that you're not telling me?'

She felt him swallow before he held her hand tighter. 'They found and killed Dr Millwood in New York City and discovered an encoded note on her. They don't know what it means, and they called in our contact in Albany, Melissa Bayley, to be part of the decoding group.'

'How long do we have?'

'I don't know,' he answered softly, pressing his cold nose into her coat. 'She got me a few pictures of the document, but I haven't been able to figure out anything else but the fact that the geographic co-ordinates for Bennington were hidden in it.'

Lisa tried to sit up, but Jackson held her down. 'We have to get out of here then!'

He shook his head. 'I'm not taking you anywhere else. It's too stressful. We'll stay here in Bennington, and if something happens, I'll protect you, I promise.'

'Sometimes that's not enough,' Lisa pleaded. 'You're strong and smart, but you can't do everything alone.'

He sat up and glared down at her as light snow began falling around them. 'I will protect you, Leese.'

Neither was conscious of the fact that Musab Reza was watching them from their now-murdered neighbour's house.

---

The next morning, there was a general celebratory feeling in the city of Bennington. Everyone was out and about despite the extra three inches of snow that fell the night before. The city seemed to be begging spring to make an appearance, flowers strewn over the sparkling snow like bouquets on a widower's grave. In downtown, each lamppost had a bundle of flowers tied to it in twine, and there were little groups of young girls going from door to door to the downtown shops, especially the chocolate shop and the general store, to get little gifts in exchange for songs. They dressed in their winter jackets and snow boots, but they had garlands of flowers hanging over the cold-weather clothing. The women at the Naked Sheep were teaching people how to make crocheted flowers, the bookstore had half-price books about gardening, and the Dog's Breath Bar had been open since sunrise with Happy Hour prices.

On the Bennington campus, a pig had been roasting at the spit since dawn. There was an exquisite May Pole in the centre of the Commons Lawn, and there were groups of students dancing around it dressed in flowing clothes and bare feet, obviously uncaring about the iciness of the day. A tent was set up on the corner of the lawn for the over-21s to buy beer on keg, and a large number of under-21s were watching them, obviously amused that the college thought this would stop them all from partaking. Dining services had set up a hot line for everyone who was coming on campus, but most people were just standing next to the charcoal grill to get warm.

Jackson and Lisa had spent the entire morning lazing around the Bennington College campus doing their normal things, and by mid-day, they were sitting with the rest of the city watching the crowning of the May Queen. Jackson paid no attention to the stage, rather choosing to nuzzle and kiss his wife mellowly. On the other side of Lisa, their older neighbour from across the street smiled at them and then looked up at Lisa.

'Jane dear, did you notice _other_ Jane at all this morning?'

Lisa turned from Jackson, eliciting a disappointed grunt from him. 'Hm?'

'Well, Jane usually walks Maggie in the morning at the same time that I walk Brady, but she wasn't out this morning,' the woman said with a worried expression apparent on her face.

'Henry,' Lisa asked, shaking Jackson when he didn't respond. He looked at her. 'Did you see our next-door neighbour this morning?'

He shook his head. 'No... she... her newspaper... it was still in the... uh... driveway. When we left. You know, this morning.'

She pressed his head down to her breast and took off his glasses, hooking them onto her coat as he dropped his head to her lap. 'Maybe she's sick, Mrs Neil.'

'I thought that, so I went and rang the doorbell. No one answered, and Maggie didn't bark at the ring. She always barks at the ring. There was someone moving inside though.'

'Well...' Lisa breathed, running her fingers through Jackson's hair. 'Have you called the police?'

'Oh Heavens no,' Mrs Neil said, shaking her hand at Lisa. 'They're too busy with the festival to be looking into an old woman's paranoia. I just wanted to make sure that no one else had seen her so I can yell at her about making me walk Brady alone in the cold.'

Lisa smiled and Mrs Neil went back to watching the stage. She looked down at her husband, who was now staring intently slightly to the side of the stage, and then carefully glanced at their house and jumped when there was movement in an upper window of Jane's house. Jackson made another unhappy noise, but she made him stand and they walked back to their house arm-in-arm. She was relieved to noticed that he was coming down from his high because of how he carried himself but became terrified when he tensed up and looked into Jane's house.

'Lisa, go home, now.'

'I'm not leaving you. What if someone's waiting in our house?'

He grumbled. 'Stay behind me.'

They walked up the stairs to the porch and crossed carefully to the door. Jackson reached hesitantly out to knock on the door, and when he did, it creaked open slowly. Opening the door all the way, he was almost knocked down by the combined odours of blood, death and heat. Lisa pressed her nose into his coat and he could hear her taking deep breaths of his cologne as they stepped forward into the house. Looking from side to side, he guided her to the foyer, an arm stretched out behind him to keep contact with her side.

'Oh shit,' he murmured.

Lisa brought her head over Jackson's shoulder, and he tried to stop her, but it was too late. She dropped to her knees and immediately started throwing up, her entire body shaking with sobs and retching. He dropped beside her and rubbed her back as he surveyed the scene with the detachment that he still possessed from his prior line of work.

The two of them had only been in Jane Edwards' house a couple of times, but Jackson basically knew the layout of the entire house. Come in the front door and there's a dining room to one side and a parlour to the other. Step through the front area, through an arch, and there's a squarish foyer with stairs lining the outside walls. Hanging from the ceiling is an exquisite chandelier that has crystals that cast rainbows all over the walls when the light from the front windows hit it just right. Today, however, when the light came through the crystals, it either didn't send out a reflection at all or a reddish one, because Jane had obviously put up a fight that sent her blood flying all over her chandelier before she was finished off.

Jackson could tell that she'd been badly injured before the assailant had hung her from the light piece. An arm hung at an odd angle to her body, handfuls of hair were missing from her scalp, and she had bruising and cuts all over her. From the look on her face, she'd also been conscious for at least a little while as the killer moved to the next part.

With her head loosely to one side and completely naked, coated in blood, Jane Edwards had been almost field-dressed. Cut from sternum to pubic bone, the skin had been roughly ripped open and her carefully excised intestines fell from the cavity down past her pointed toes and pooled on the floor, flies buzzing around them. Jackson was about to leave his wife and walk over to the body when there was the sound of someone coming down the stairs. He roughly pulled her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her, listening to her halting breaths as she pressed her sweating forehead to his cheek. Groping for the gun he kept in his pocket as they backed up, Jackson watched the stairs and relaxed when Jane's old boxer, Maggie, came trotting down the stairs and immediately started growling at them, exposing her teeth as she frothed at the mouth.

'Hey, Maggie... it's okay. It's just us,' Lisa offered, squatting down and putting a hand out.

The dog made it down the final flight and looked warily at them until Jackson put both hands where the dog could see them. With a slight growl still issuing from her throat, she edged her way to Jackson and Lisa, sniffing them for a minute before putting her unclipped tail between her legs and curling into Lisa, drooling all over her. As Lisa scratched the dog's back, her head buried in her fur, Maggie whined and looked at her mistress. Jackson scratched the dog's head absently before taking out a kerchief and walking to the phone, picking it up with his covered hand and casually dialling 911. He had a short conversation with the dispatcher and within moments, there was the sound of a siren and a couple of on-foot patrolmen came in followed soon by the police in the squad car. Their reaction was about the same as Jackson's.

'Wow, shit,' said a young officer, his hand poised on his gun. Other officers murmured agreement.

'Mr and Mrs Cohen,' one of the officers said, gesturing to the outside. Lisa took Maggie's collar in her hand and led the dog outside with Jackson's hand protectively around her waist. 'How did you come across Ms Edwards body?'

'Mrs Neil from across the street mentioned that she hadn't seen Jane today,' Lisa said, rubbing Maggie's head. 'We were walking home and decided to check on her to make sure she wasn't sick.'

The officer looked at her nauseated face sympathetically. 'Will you be all right?'

Lisa nodded vaguely. 'I think so. I just need to lie down for awhile.'

'Why don't the two of you head home. If we need anything, we know where you live,' he said, taking Maggie's collar from Lisa. 'Don't skip town or anything!'

Jackson laughed lightly before shaking the man's hand and stepping off of the porch with his wife still firmly in his grip. He pressed his lips to her ear. 'We're getting out of here _right now_.'

---

Twenty minutes later, as an ambulance pulled up to take Jane Edwards' body to the morgue, Lisa and Jackson walked calmly out of the house, her carrying the basket she always took to the grocery store and he carrying a briefcase he always took to the bank. Jackson locked the door and put a note on it, glancing at the police chief and giving him a wave.

'Jane and I are running downtown for a little bit if you need us.'

The chief didn't reply but returned the wave, so they crossed the street and walked past the cemetery, bagel shop and Catholic church before coming into the centre of the downtown area. Jackson tried to pull Lisa across the street to go into the bank with him, but she gave him a look and took her arm back.

'I'm just going to stop by the café, okay?'

'Lisa...'

'If we're going on the lam again, I'd like to talk for just a little bit with my friends here. Everyone's out today, Jackson. You don't have to worry. See,' she said, pointing down towards the café. 'There are people walking all along the street here and the police department is right across the street. Nothing's going to happen. Just go in there, settle things up, and come get me. What's going to happen in five minutes?'

He gave her an uncomfortable look before noticing that the little red man for crossing the street was starting to blink. 'All right, five minutes.'

'Thanks,' she replied, giving him a kiss on the cheek. 'Everything's going to be all right.'

Jackson ran across the road to Chittenden Bank and disappeared into the building before Lisa moved. She walked past the bookstore, looking at the paperbacks that were on display on the racks on the sidewalk, and then went up to the café. When she opened the screen door and walked in, the door slammed very loudly, but no one looked up. On a couch just inside the door, a Bennington student that Lisa recognised as one of Jackson's smoking circle was sleeping, his arm thrown over his head. She almost went over to shake him awake, but she stopped a couple of steps away from him when Michelle, the cashier, stepped out from the back room.

'Jane, hello. How are you today?'

Lisa stepped away from the student, Will, and looked at the tables around the café. 'I'm doing fine, Michelle, just in to grab something for the road.'

'Oh, are you and Henry going away again?' the woman asked, holding handfuls of curtain around her.

Nodding, Lisa looked closely at the denizens of the café. An old man was bent over a manuscript, his face hidden by his hand. Ethan, one of the people who worked at the café, was obviously on break and had fallen asleep in a wooden chair in the back of the store; Lisa could see his legs sticking out. A woman across the room was leaning back with her eyes half open looking at a book propped up in her hands, and Lisa could see her friend Antonia at the farthest table with her head pressed against her girlfriend Daphne's—from the way they were sitting, it appeared that they were studying something.

'It's really quiet in here today, Michelle,' Lisa said and watched as Michelle's eyes flittered to behind the counter. Lisa froze and looked the woman in the eyes as she seemed to be pushed forward and moved behind the counter.

'What would you like?' Michelle asked, her voice suddenly hoarse and tears gathering at the edges of her eyes. 'The normal?'

'Are you okay?' Lisa asked, taking a hesitant step towards the counter. Michelle tensed and tears started pouring down her face as she screamed.

'Jane, get out of here! Hurry, run, find Henry and—'

Lisa gasped as there was a bang and a bullet erupted from Michelle's forehead. The blood splattered all over her and she watched helplessly as Michelle crumpled to the floor behind the counter. She backed up slowly as a man stood, his gun trained on Lisa, but she stopped when she ran into the table where the old man sat and he fell, exposing the fact that he'd been shot point blank in the forehead much like Michelle. Screaming, Lisa tripped and landed hard on her tailbone, hitting the floor next to the body and backing into another table in her flurry. She found herself looking at the woman with the book, who had been shot through the temple, her hair covering the entry and exit wounds. As the man came around the counter, Lisa used a chair to climb to her feet and ran over to Antonia and Daphne, shaking them. Daphne fell over onto the book in front of them, dead, but Antonia was still breathing slowly.

'Okay, Mrs Rippner. You decided to be difficult, and look what we had to do,' Reza said coldly, cocking his gun. 'Your neighbour, your friends, your fellow townspeople... would it not have been easier just to let us take you in Miami?'

Backing up more, she knocked into Ethan's legs and was startled to see that he no longer had a head. Bile burned her throat, but she put a hand over her mouth to stop herself from throwing up. Looking around the headless boy, she sleekly picked up a large mug and fork as she pretended to throw up into the dish collector.

'Look at you now. In Miami, you still had the ability to fight but now you are helpless without your beloved husband.'

For a second, Lisa thought there was a possibility that Reza had killed Jackson, but when she looked up in surprise, she could see that Jackson was crossing the street from Chittenden having obviously just closed their account and put the money in the briefcase he now held in his left hand. Turning her attention back to Reza, she let a couple of tears run down her face as she kept her hands weakly on the edge of the plastic container.

'We have been told to not kill you,' he said with distaste as he took another couple of steps close to her. 'But if you try something, I will not hesitate to wound you.'

She nodded as Jackson disappeared to the other corner, and she knew he'd be in the café in a matter of seconds. Once Reza lowered his gun and was about to grab her by the arm, however, she quickly pulled out the mug and slammed it over his head before taking the fork and driving it directly into his left eye. As he leaned screaming against the wall, she pushed past him and to the door that Jackson had just opened, running into his arms and he looked around coldly.

'_Rooh_!' Musab yelled, and a small group of men came through the curtain Michelle had appeared from.

Jackson immediately pulled out his gun and fired at them, hitting two in their chests before pushing Lisa out of the café and running after her. The first car waiting at the stop light he ran to, ripping the door open and pulling the driver out, taking her place as Lisa got in the passenger side, breathing heavily. Without waiting for the light to change, he slammed on the gas and turned right, speeding immediately towards the east. The driver yelled at him but was quickly shot in the head by one of the militants, which caused the streets to erupt into havoc.

Musab Reza stepped out after his little army, holding a dishtowel to the eye socket, now empty and bleeding after he ripped the fork and eyeball out. The two uninjured assassins waited for commands from their leader, and after collecting himself, Reza pointed them towards their car, and soon they were pursuing Lisa and Jackson.

For the first time ever, Jackson was honestly terrified. His eyes were wide as he thought through the different ways he could go, and when he came to the fork right outside of Bennington, he decided to head towards Wilmington. His breathing had slowed back to normal, but he could hear that Lisa's had become more jagged. When the road became slightly straight, he looked over at her and found her forehead was dripping with sweat and she was grabbing onto her stomach tightly.

'Leese...' he said, reaching out to press a hand just atop her belly button.

She screamed and sobbed, grabbing one of his hands tightly as they sped along the back roads of rural Vermont. 'Oh God, Jackson, it hurts so much!'

'Fuck,' he said, driving with his knees and he reached out to pull Lisa closer to him. She buried her face into his arm as he rubbed her stomach. 'Come on, Lisa, it's not time for this. You still have a couple of months, come on, breathe normally. This isn't real, you're just having a panic attack.'

He hoped he wasn't just lying to her when she bit into his arm, her entire body tensing as he felt the baby move under his touch. When she relaxed, she was shaking, and he wanted nothing more than to just pull the car over and hold her, but just as the thought entered his head, he saw another car in the rear-view mirror, a black Beemer. Pushing Lisa down so that her head was in his lap, he pressed the pedal all the way down to the floor and cursed himself for stealing such a shitty car.

'Leese, you need to calm down for me, okay?'

He could feel her tears rolling onto the fabric of his pants, but her breathing was becoming deeper and more rhythmic as she held tightly to her stomach, her eyes squeezed shut. She braced herself as he turned sharp corners, nearly falling off of the seat each time. Jackson's hand came down atop hers once more and he drove with one hand clutched to the wheel as he tried to help her calm down.

'Just let them take me,' she pleaded, grabbing onto his hand. 'We can't do this anymore. They're going to kill you if you don't give me up.'

'I'm not giving you to them,' Jackson said through clenched teeth. 'You are _mine_.'

'You have to let me go,' she said, still breathing heavily.

In response, he just tried to push the pedal harder, glancing in the rear-view mirror at the rapidly approaching BMW. The trees around them thinned as they came to lake on the right side of the road, and Jackson realised in horror that they might try to ram them into the water. The BMW came up close enough to tap the bumper a bit, so Jackson strained to get the Mitsubishi fast enough to at least get past the lake. As it thinned out to a river, Jackson considered his options.

'Dearest, can you sit and buckle up?' he asked in a shaky voice.

Startled by his use of a nickname, she strained to sit up and buckled in, still keeping careful track of her own breathing. As soon as she was buckled, Jackson took a sharp turn onto a dirt road created by road construction. The car complained loudly, but he was able to keep it under control, taking a deep breath as the BMW ran past the road, giving them a few extra seconds of lead. They bounced along, Lisa feeling decidedly nauseous and Jackson looking tense. He swerved off of the road and onto the snow beside it, cutting down a hill to get back onto the main road. Really and truly, he was starting to run out of ideas—if Lisa wasn't pregnant, he'd have had them bail out of the moving car long ago, but she was clumsy and slow now, and there was no way he could have them separate and meet up elsewhere because he felt the need to be with her and protect her.

They'd made it to the outskirts of Wilmington when there was suddenly enough traffic to hide in other cars. There were at least three cars between them and the militants, and as soon as possible, Jackson took a turn onto the road heading to West Dover. Not far outside of town, however, the BMW was back with them, and no one was going either direction because the ski areas had already closed for the day. The engine of the Mitsubishi was starting to overheat, and Jackson's blue eyes reflected on the red overheat light with great worry. When the engine finally locked, the BMW slammed into them easily, and all Jackson could do was swerve to avoid making the Mitsubishi overturn. They rolled backwards down a hill into a snowy field, and before the car even stopped, both he and Lisa were out and running towards the tree-line, he pulling Lisa to help stabilise and speed her up. Right before they reached the trees, however, a shot rang through the air and Lisa immediately became dead weight. He panicked and turned to find her curled on the ground, her leg bleeding.

'Leese,' he said, curling up beside her and checking her leg. The bullet had missed the bones but did a number on the calf muscle.

'Fucking hell,' she hissed, trying to grab at her leg, but stopped by her stomach.

As Reza and his men came across the field, Jackson crouched in front of his wife, trying to hide her behind him as he wrapped her leg in a strip of wool ripped from his coat. He felt for his gun before realising it must have slipped from his pocket when they crossed the field. They were completely defenceless and for the first time in his life, he felt helpless.

'Mr Rippner, please give us your wife,' Reza said as he got within hearing distance. His lackeys stood menacingly on either side of Lisa and Jackson.

Lisa looked up with half-closed eyes at Reza and his men, vaguely feeling as Jackson picked her up and locked his arms around her. 'You can't have her.'

Reza laughed. 'She is just a pawn, Mr Rippner. We need her.'

'If you take her, you're taking me too,' Jackson spat. 'She is seven months pregnant with my child and I'm not leaving her to you.'

Reza nodded towards one of the lackeys, and in an instant, a tire iron was brought down on Jackson's head and he went limp, falling in the snow. Lisa fell back against him and rolled to the side, drunk with anaemia. She whimpered a little at Jackson, slipping her hand into his and trying to squeeze it, but she dropped it when one of the men bent down and picked her up, carrying her away from Jackson and to the black car.

Reza looked down at Jackson, who had a trickle of blood running down his forehead. 'I'll take care of him.'

The other lackey nodded and followed his associate to the car. In the quiet late afternoon, two more shots cracked through the air followed by crunching footsteps and the sound of a car driving away.


	26. 2 May 2006

A/N: Only thirteen more pages and I'm finished with editing this...

---

It was starting to get dark outside when Marie Schuster finally got off of the mountain. The Snowcats were already heading out to groom the snow for the next day, and by the time she got her skis off and put them away in her locker, they'd already reached the moguls at the top of the main run. She dropped her ski rescue backpack by the office, pulling out the first aid kit to take with her, and chatted a bit with the girl behind the desk about conditions and stupid late-season skiers before grabbing her purse and heading back to change into jeans and a sweater.

Although she expected for her boyfriend to be late for the third time in the last four days, she was surprised to find his beat up station wagon waiting for her by the base camp building. She skipped over to him, jumping in the car through the window of the broken passenger door before giving him a kiss. They drove away from the mountain as the Snowcats turned on their headlights.

'So, how was business at the Blue Goose?'

'Fucking tourists.'

'Same here.'

They were silent for a long while as they passed all of the ski rental areas and restaurants at the base of the mountain. It was about a twenty-five or thirty minute drive back to Bennington, where Marie went to grad school, and ever since Nate had broken his tape deck, the ride had become more and more boring. Southern Vermont had very few radio stations, so they were pretty much out of luck and usually spent the ride back from work in silence; they weren't exactly the most talkative of couples.

About three-quarters of the way to Wilmington, Marie perked up in her seat, looking at a car that was down in a field. She reached over and smacked at Nate's arm before pointing out at the car.

'Hey, isn't that Callie's car?'

He slowed down the car and pulled it to the rocky shoulder. Marie looked under the seat and got a flashlight to illuminate the half-light of sunset and they both slid down the ditch to look in the car.

'Yeah, that's hers. Check out the g-string hanging from the mirror.'

Nate reached in to play with the g-string, but Marie was looking at the hasty footsteps moving away from the car. She followed the prints, worried that Callie might have been abducted because it looked like someone was dragging someone else. After several yards, there were droplets of blood and she noticed that farther away from her, there were full streaks of blood. Her eyes grew wide and she flashed the light ahead of her. It landed on a body.

'Nate! Get my medical pack!'

He dropped the g-string onto the driver's seat without a question and climbed the ditch back to his car, digging Marie's first aid tote bag from the back where she'd flung it upon getting in the car. Tucking it under his shirt, he slid back down and ran out to where she was down on her knees next to a bloody man.

'Oh fuck,' he said, pulling out the kit and setting it beside her as she checked the man's pulse. 'Marie, that's the guy who traded cars with me in Alabama!'

'What the hell are you talking about, Nate?' she hissed, ripping open Jackson's coat and shirt, trying to find out where the bullets had hit. 'It's Henry Cohen, he lives in Bennington with his wife Jane. He's the one that's been buying the good ganja for Will.'

'No, no, he's that Jackson Rippner guy that's been all over the news!'

'Shut up, Nate. Just help me pack gauze into these wounds.'

He gave up for the time being and started folding gauze for her to tape to Jackson's chest. Once she'd covered the gunshot wound, she folded the coat back over him and ran her fingers through his hair, terrified by the bump on the crest of his skull and the huge amount of blood on his temple. Nate handed her more gauze and she used it against the long cut that ran from his temple to the back of his head, exposing bone. He'd been lucky; the bullet was lodged in the ground beside him—just a little more to the left and he'd be dead.

'Let's get him in the car. He needs to go to the hospital.'

'_He's still alive_?' Nate asked incredulously, helping her pick him up.

'He's been shot before; there were scars all over his chest. Maybe he's got used to it or... something,' she said, holding Jackson's legs as Nate supported his shoulders. 'I though he was a businessman. Why the fuck would a businessman have gunshot wounds?'

'I tell you, Marie, it's fucking Jackson Rippner, that assassin.'

She rolled her eyes as they reached the bottom of the ditch and began slowly moving up it, trying not to hurt Jackson more. Once at the road, Marie held Jackson with his legs over one arm and his upper back over another, his head lolling against her shoulder as Nate opened the back hatch of his car. There were already blankets laid out from a few nights ago when the two of them went smoking out by Lake Param, so Marie just laid Jackson on them and got in beside him. Nate threw in the medical pack and ran up to the driver's seat, and within a few minutes, they were speeding off towards Bennington with Marie working on Jackson. They didn't speak until they got within viewing distance of downtown and Nate immediately began cursing. Marie looked up from Jackson, who now had his legs propped up and was covered with a thick, fuzzy blanket up to his neck.

Marie climbed into the front seat as Nate edged up to the crowd gathered around what seemed to be every emergency vehicle in Bennington. Red and blue lights flashed on the windows of downtown and there were huge lights set up around the perimeter. The woman climbed through the window and jumped out, pushing through the crowd to the blockade and catching the attention of an officer.

'We found Henry Cohen out near Wilmington and he's injured. We need to get him to the hospital,' she said frantically and watched him call over a team of paramedics with a gurney. They went over to Nate's car and Marie turned back to the officer. 'Someone needs to go tell Jane.'

'Jane was with him,' the officer said, giving her a startled look. 'We have eyewitnesses who saw Mr and Mrs Cohen take Callie Maurier's car right before she was shot by the people who then pursued the Cohens.'

Marie's heart sank to the pit of her stomach. 'But... Jane wasn't in the field or the car. Where did she go?'

A person standing next to her pulled her back so that the gurney with Jackson on it could cut through to the ambulance and as she watched him loaded in and taken away to the hospital at the top of the hill. Her much-taller boyfriend came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. She looked down at the edge of his patchwork pants before the officer spoke to her again.

'Marie, Nate, could you please come with us down to the station? We need to question you.'

---

It was deathly early in the morning when Isabella and Giovanni di Matteo's government-issued car drove past Southern Vermont University. Immediately following the phone calls from the Bennington police and Bennington College, they'd left their home in upper Manhattan and driven straight from New York City to Vermont, stopping just once to get gas in the middle of nowhere in New York state. Giovanni sped into the hospital parking lot, parking diagonally across two parking places. His wife was out of the car and running to the front doors before he even put the car into park. He followed quickly after her, not even bothering to lock the car. She was at the front desk when he came up behind her.

'We're here to see Antonia di Matteo,' she said with panic apparent in her voice.

'Of course,' the woman said, quickly grabbing Antonia's file from an in-out bin on the desk. 'Come this way, she's in the ICU.'

They went down the hallway, passing closed doors and walking under flickering lights. After going through a few sets of doors, they arrived at the intensive care unit and were ushered to their daughter's room. A group of nurses were around her bed, monitoring all of her vitals, but they looked up when the di Matteos walked in. Antonia was hooked up to life support and her chest was rising and falling at the same time as the machine beside her respirated.

'_Mia piu caro figlia_,' Giovanni muttered as he went to his daughter's side, but Isabella hung back, her fingers running along the leather strap of her purse.

'I... I need a smoke, Giovanni,' she said weakly, not waiting for a response as she backed out of the room, the vision of her pallid daughter burned into her mind.

She looked about the ward, trying to find the fastest way out to the snowy parking lot. An exit sign blazed at the end of the hallway, so she headed down that direction. She stopped dead in her tracks, however, when she looked in a room that had its door held open by a nurse who was talking to another nurse inside. Backing up, she looked into the room and made a move to step in before being blocked by a clipboard-holding arm.

'I'm sorry, miss, but you can't go into ICU rooms without being escorted by a nurse.'

Isabella dug through her purse and held up her FBI badge. 'Who is this man?'

'Henry Cohen,' the nurse responded quickly, giving up her clipboard to the woman fearfully. 'He was involved in yesterday's accident.'

'Involved?' Isabella asked, raising an eyebrow.

'Oh, no no no,' the woman said, putting her hands in front of her. 'He was pursued by the people who committed that _atrocity_ at the café.'

'Where is his wife?' the agent hazarded, handing the clipboard back to the nurse.

'We don't know,' she replied sadly, crossing her arms over the clipboard. 'Jane was with him when they left Bennington, but they didn't find her. They're investigating it right now out near Wilmington.'

'Are you friends with the Cohens?'

'I live across the street from them with my mom.'

'How long have they lived in Bennington?'

The nurse shrugged. 'A couple of months, I guess. They moved from California and were going to have their baby here. Jane's been coming in every couple of weeks for check-ups.'

'She's pregnant? How far along?'

'Seven months, give or take a few days.'

Isabella looked in at the patient, issuing a little sigh. 'Is he awake yet?'

The nurse tipped her head to the side and puckered her lips a little. 'He woke up earlier, yeah, but we have him on a morphine drip right now that's making him sleep or just be pretty useless. The police tried to come question him earlier, but he just yammered at them and got really upset, so we had them leave.'

'Do you mind if I have a few minutes with him?'

'Yeah, that's fine,' she said, motioning to the nurse in the room. They both left and Isabella walked in.

'Jackson Rippner?' Isabella asked, walking up to the man.

Slowly, Jackson turned his head, which was wrapped in lots of gauze, covering the stitches that closed up the gunshot wound on the side of his face. One eye was covered by the bandaging, but the other looked at her emotionlessly. Di Matteo looked down on him, taking inventory of his injuries.

'Where is Lisa?' Jackson asked, his voice almost wispy.

Isabella shook her head, and as she did, her cell phone rang. She picked it up. 'Di Matteo.'

'Isabella, it's Angela Johnson. The team's going to rendezvous at headquarters in a half-hour.'

'What?'

'Our team decoded the message, and the kidnapping's going to take place in Bennington, Vermont.'

Di Matteo glanced at Jackson. 'It's already happened.'

There was silence on the other end. 'How do you know?'

'My daughter was shot in the kidnapping,' she said softly, the picture of her daughter drifting through her head. 'And I'm standing in front of Jackson Rippner right now.'

'Oh God, Isabella, I'm so sorry,' she muttered, and di Matteo could tell she had a hand over her mouth. 'We... we'll be there in a few hours.'

'Johnson,' Isabella said tersely as Jackson looked at her pitifully. 'Please call Joe Reisert. He'll want to know his son-in-law is safe.'

---

A couple thousand miles away, Joe Reisert slept soundly with help from the Ambien that he admittedly stole from Jackson and Lisa's apartment when he went in to clean out their refrigerator and gather a few of Lisa's things to bring back to his house. Alfie was asleep across his neck, her chin atop his, and by his ear on the pillow was the wireless phone. As it rang, his eyes snapped open and he scooped Alfie up into an arm swiftly as he pulled the phone to his ear and sat up.

'Hello?'

'Mr Reisert? This is Agent Angela Johnson with the New York City Field Office of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. We have a new development.'

'Did you find Lisa?' he asked, setting down the cat and feeling around the nightstand for his glasses.

'No, but your son-in-law is in the Southwestern Vermont Medical Centre in Bennington, Vermont. There was a massacre in the city today and Mr Rippner left with your daughter to escape from the killers, but about an hour later, he was found shot in a field about twenty minutes from town. Your daughter is still missing.'

'What... what's the closest airport to Bennington?'

'Albany.'

'I'll be there as soon as I can,' he said, and then ended the call before she could reply.


	27. First week of May 2006

A/N: Uhn... this is graphic, so if you're all queazy about things, or want this to be a cake walk or something, I'd avoid this chapter even though it's like... important. I'll put an A/N in the next chapter about what happens if anyone needs it...

---

At first, Lisa thought she'd gone blind. Her eyes opened, and it was only after hearing her eyelashes brushing against the blindfold that she relaxed. For the life of her, she had no idea what had happened or where she was, and was terrified as the baby kicked and she suddenly realised that she couldn't move her arms to soothe him. The handcuffs holding her arms down clattered loudly, the sound refracting around the room, and within a few moments, a metal door creaked open and back closed, and she could see a little bit of light through the fabric.

'Finally joining us, Mrs Rippner?' asked an unfamiliar voice, and a few seconds later, her blindfold was pulled off.

She blinked against the light and turned her face to the side, but the man reached out and took her chin, pulling her head back. Her hair mostly obscured her view of him.

'Don't be impolite,' he said, giving her a little smile as she bit down on the gag in her mouth.

There were so many questions she wanted to ask the man but all she could do was chew maddeningly on the fabric between her teeth. He reached up and brushed her hair away softly, giving her a view of the entire room. It couldn't be more than eight by eight with a ceiling that reached just a few inches above the man's head. The walls were painted a slightly drab earth tone and Lisa realised she was surrounded by medical supplies—there were IV stands on one side and cabinets on the other. Under the cabinets, silver trays of medical instruments were laid out neatly and tied down. She shifted and found that she was on a dental chair that was covered with a duvet so that it was soft to lie upon. As she concentrated, she could feel a slight rocking.

'Trying to remember where you are?' the man asked as he looked through cabinets. 'Well, your husband is _dead_ and you're in the hands of Hezbollah.'

Lisa's head snapped to him and tears immediately formed at the edges of her eyes. He turned and smirked at her sadness.

'I don't know why you loved him so much,' the man said, pulling out a syringe and tapping it. 'Really, he just wasn't that interesting of a person.'

After squirting out a bit of whatever was in the syringe, he walked over and thrust it into Lisa's thrashing arm. It was obvious by the skill and ease with which he injected her that he'd worked with incredibly upset patients before and Lisa found herself musing over who he could be when she just felt her body go completely lax. With another smile, he untied her gag.

'You're _American_,' she slurred, feeling her tongue falling asleep.

'Good job,' he replied, and her mind started sending off red lights as he reached behind her to undo the hospital gown she was wearing. As he pulled it off of her, she wanted to grab after him or spit on him or something, but all she could do was watch with wide eyes. 'You know, I've always had this fantasy...'

Lisa worked to lie perfectly still, but sweat was gathering at her brow and all she wanted to do was cradle the baby in her womb and curl up against Jackson. But if Jackson was really dead... no, Jackson would never leave her. Ever.

Terror permeated her to the core as he unbuttoned his shirt and cast it to the side. He paused with the belt, looking from the strip of leather and back to her but decided to throw it on top of his shirt. Soon, he stood there in the sterile light of the room completely naked and Lisa's brain was sending unreceived messages for her body to scream. The man came over and took one of her swollen breasts in one hand, fondling it until pain shot through her whole chest and more tears poured down the sides of her face. As he went around to the other side, he paused to bury his nose in the mass of curls framing her face, taking in a deep breath before running his hands over her stomach, his fingers tracing every little stretch mark on Lisa's pale skin. If she had control of her body, she'd be sobbing and fighting back, but she was completely defenceless and could only watch helplessly as he climbed onto the chair with her.

'... to have sex with a pregnant woman,' he finally said, flicking at her now outie belly button. 'It makes it all the better that you happen to be a _beautiful_ enemy of Hezbollah and the wife of a former patient.'

Her mind tensed. Where did Jackson find these crazy doctors? She could feel her legs raise a bit as he adjusted the chair and made sure her legs were tied down securely. Positioning himself down by the crux of her thighs, she could feel as his fingers probed into her vagina. It made her want to throw up, but her body wasn't responding at all.

'Cervix is starting to thin out a little, Mrs Rippner?' he laughed, and then shoved himself into her. 'Easier for me.'

He ran his hands all along her stomach as he drove deeper and deeper, licking around her belly button and giving her dark, lusty looks with his brown eyes. Tears were now falling freely down her face, even though her eyes were squeezed shut. Jackson might be dead, she was on a boat somewhere, she was being held by Hezbollah and had no clue what they intended to do with her, and now her worst fear was happening all over again.

'How does this make you feel?' he asked breathily, shoving into her rhythmically. 'It's been a difficult few days for you, hasn't it? All of your friends dying, your husband executed by Reza, sleeping for three days, and then being raped by your husband's psychiatrist, the same one who told him to go the businessman route to make it easier for us to get you... oh, I bet you feel awful, don't you?'

He groaned at his release and then slipped out of her, his erection still noticeable as he continued to give her lusty looks, crossing the room to clean off and get dressed. Lisa's hair was now soaked with tears, her face splotchy.

'It can't be all bad,' he smirked, buttoning his shirt. 'We won't kill you unless the government refuses our demands; you're far too good of a hostage for mere killing.'

Once dressed, he came back to her and covered her with a thick blanket.

'Until next time, sunshine.'

He left the room and Lisa quickly cried herself to sleep.

---

After the gunshot wounds started showing slight signs of infection and Jackson spent his waking time screaming in pain for Lisa, the doctors at Southwestern Vermont decided to increase his dosage of morphine, so by the time Joe and Carol arrived, he was basically in a catatonic state. Joe paced at the foot of the bed reading the newspaper coverage of the massacre in the _Bennington Banner_ and Carol held her son-in-law's hand protectively. It was considered a federal case now, and field agents from the Albany branch and even special agents from Washington were prowling around Bennington trying to find clues and connections. The field Jackson was discovered in was a major search area and the car had been sent to Boston for analysis. They'd found the tire iron used to knock out Jackson, but it yielded no fingerprints because the assailant had been wearing gloves. They dug the bullet out of the ground and Jackson's chest and the first huge break came when a gun matching the calibre of the bullet was found just beyond the Vermont-Massachusetts border. Ballistics proved that they were mates, so the Boston-area agents began to search their city, the only truly major city other than New York in the region.

Three days after the disappearance of Lisa, a car fitting the description given by eyewitnesses was discovered in the waters of the Port of Boston with two dead men inside. Once the dry-suit divers made the discovery, cranes were immediately brought in to surface the car. The fingerprints of both men matched the prints found in the café, and Lisa's blood was found all over the backseat of the car. The absence of the main suspect, however, kept the agents on the case as a kidnapping rather than murder.

Joe and Carol were kept abreast of developments by Isabella, who was in the hospital every day to visit her daughter. They knew about the discovery of the car, the attainment of shipping records from the port, and the tracking by the FBI of the ships that left for the few days prior. However, it wasn't until the 7th of May, nearly a week after Lisa disappeared, that the government received a tape that had been broadcast on Al-Jazeera.

'Mr Reisert, Dr Bellamy,' Isabella said, walking into Jackson's room on that Sunday, still dressed in the clothes she'd worn to Mass. 'I've just received a call. Could we speak in the hall?'

Joe immediately left the room, but Carol lingered to talk to the half-awake Jackson in low tones before letting go of his hand and following his ex-husband from the room.

'I don't think that Jackson should know about this,' said Isabella quietly, looking at both of them seriously. 'A tape of Lisa has just been released to the media. They're showing it on CNN right now. Come on to the nurse's station; they have it tuned in to Headline News.'

The three of them went to the station, Carol with her hands over her mouth and Joe looking stern. The nurses cleared away so that they could watch the television, and within a couple of moments, the feed changed from an anchorwoman to a picture of Lisa sitting sullenly in a chair. Her hair was lank and her eyes seemingly soulless. Around her left calf was a bandage, and she was dressed in just a hospital gown. Behind her was the flag of Hezbollah, and she had a gun held by a guard pressed against her head. A voice came from the side and she glanced over before looking straight at the camera. It zoomed in on her face.

'I am Lisa Henrietta Reisert Rippner, a citizen of the United States of America. I am being held by Lebanese Hezbollah, and will not be released until Charles Keefe steps down as the Deputy Director of Homeland Security. Hezbollah also wishes for the return of American-held prisoners of war in exchange...' she swallowed harshly and tears started falling down her face. The man with the gun jabbed her in the temple. 'In exchange for the lives of myself and my child.'

The camera zoomed back out and Musab Reza appeared on-screen, his left eye covered by a patch. 'We expect contact by the United States government with a response tape to the Al-Jazeera network within the next twenty-four hours.'

The picture snapped back to the anchorwoman and Carol immediately dissolved into tears. Her ex-husband wrapped his arms around her and Isabella put her hand on his upper arm, trying to offer some comfort. Holding his ex-wife closer, Joe looked over her head at the agent.

'Has the government sent a response yet?'

Isabella nodded. 'Keefe took care of it himself right after the government received the tape. It'll be broadcast on Al-Jazeera within the next hour.'

'What happens now?'

'The CIA has become involved now, so we're going to jointly set up a base of operations in Turkey within the next few days, as soon as we can get enough agents over there. Keefe is coming with us and will be heading the operation,' she replied. 'We're going to want you and Dr Bellamy to stay here in America under protection.'

'What about Jackson?' Carol asked, pulling her face out of Joe's chest.

Isabella shifted a bit. 'Keefe wants to take Jackson to Turkey.'

'What are you doing out of your bed?' asked a nurse, bustling around the desk.

All three looked up to see Jackson leaning heavily on the desk with a dark look on his face as he watched the rebroadcast of Lisa's tape.


	28. 10 May 2006

A/N: For those who chose to not read it, Lisa got raped by Dr Greene. Woo.

--

'Congratulations, Mrs Rippner. Your government is willing to negotiate.'

Lisa just kept staring at a fly on the wall until her face was forcefully moved to look at the man. Reza smiled grimly at her.

'Are you not happy, Mrs Rippner? Perhaps we will not have to kill you.'

He brushed some of her greasy hair out of her face and carefully removed the dried salt at the point where her eye met her nose. She tried to turn her face from him, but he kept his hold on her chin.

'Madame Mugniyah has requested that we release you into her care for the day,' he said, putting his face close to hers. 'You should be thankful.'

'I am,' she muttered to him, her mouth dry, keeping her eyes trained on his.

'Good.'

The door opened again and a woman in a long black dress walked in with a couple of the guards flanking her. Her long, dark hair was braided in a plait down her back, and she had a smouldering Persian look about her. She watched as Lisa's arms and legs were released from her bindings, and with a nod, dismissed Reza but kept the guards with her; Lisa quickly came to realise that they were her bodyguards. One of the men yanked Lisa to her feet harshly, making her shoulder crack, and Madame Mugniyah responded by hitting him on the back of the head.

'Be careful with her. Her life is worth more than yours will ever be,' she hissed, speaking with a heavy British accent, and in return, the man loosened his grip on Lisa's wrist.

Lisa curled a bit into herself as he stepped away, his grip replaced by that of the Iranian woman. She led her out of the room by her wrist; Lisa kept her head down, looking at the tiled floor of the area outside of her cell. The men stayed close behind them, their rifles held across their chests, and Lisa found herself leaning slightly into the other woman just because she seemed to be the least threatening person in the area. One of the guards passed them and Lisa looked up, vaguely amazed by the ornate foyer they were passing through. The guard opened the door in front of them and Lisa walked into the room with Madame Mugniyah. The other woman spoke to the guards and they stood at attention outside.

The door snapped shut and Lisa heard Madame Mugniyah lock it. 'Your name is Lisa, yes?'

'Yes,' she replied as the woman stepped around her and started gathering things from a closet.

'My name is Anoo,' she said, pulling down a robe from the very top of the closet. 'My husband arranged for your retrieval.'

Anoo turned around when Lisa gasped and started crying. The Persian woman dropped the things in her arms and went to Lisa, leading her to a seating area in the room. Patting her head awkwardly, Anoo poured a glass of water and offered it to her.

'Drink this,' Anoo murmured before returning to the closet. 'You shouldn't worry too much. The men are very harsh, but so is our leader. They are upset with you because you made them go against Fadlallah's commands to leave civilians uninjured.'

Her arms loaded with soaps and towels, Anoo walked over and pressed her back against a panel on the wall. It opened to a marble bathroom, and she nodded to Lisa to follow her. After tapping her glass to the top of the coffee table, the short brunette followed. When she got into the bathroom, Anoo had already set the things down and was drawing a bath.

'Why did they want me?' she muttered, leaning against a pillar as she watched the other woman test the water.

'Killing two birds with one stone,' she said, turning her grey eyes upon Lisa. 'Revenge towards your husband for failing in his assignment and the perfect opportunity to force Keefe out of the government.'

'I don't have that kind of power over Keefe.'

Anoo gave her a patronising smile. 'You already tried that lie on your husband.'

As the tub filled, Anoo walked behind Lisa and started untying the back of her hospital gown. Immediately, Lisa recoiled from her touch and she paused, her manicured fingers steadied on Lisa's back. Once Lisa relaxed a bit, she continued, and soon Lisa stood naked against the pillar as Anoo went to drop the gown in the hamper. Suddenly modest, she crossed her bruised arms over her chest, a faint blush coming over her face.

'You needn't be modest. The guards aren't allowed in here.'

'I'd like to bathe alone,' Lisa said in a half-voice, not making eye contact with Anoo.

'We don't trust you that much,' the woman said with a little laugh. 'You're lucky to be offered even this little bit of leniency. I will be in here, and I will be sitting next to the tub. We can't have you trying to kill yourself.'

'I'd never kill myself,' Lisa said, snapping her head up. 'How dare you even think—'

Anoo came over and slapped her across the face, dropping her hand quickly to yank at Lisa's already bruised wrist, pulling her away from the column and over to the bathtub, pushing her backwards into the water and glaring down at her.

'I am not your friend,' she growled, bending down to Lisa's face, her nails digging into the gunshot wound on Lisa's leg. 'It is only by happenstance that I am a wife and a mother and because of this, I have an emotional drive that none of the men here have. I know how it feels to be pregnant and alone but that does not change the fact that you are a prisoner here and I am above you.'

Lisa looked up at her with wide eyes, the amulet hanging from Anoo's neck brushing against the top of her chest. She was splayed about, an arm resting on the edge and her legs thrown askew under Anoo. With rage still apparent, the woman ripped Lisa's bandages off and shoved her legs in the tub, splashing more water on the floor that she walked across daintily to drop the bandage in the trash. Staring in the mirror, she pinned back some stray black hairs that had fallen out during the scuffle before turning her glance to Lisa, who was looking at her over the edge of the bathtub.

'You see the soap and shampoo. Start cleaning yourself. When you've finished that, I will give you a razor.'

Numbly, Lisa reached out and took the olive oil and almond-scented soap, wetting it in the hot water and running it over her grimy skin. Anoo wasn't focused on her as she powdered her face with a huge pouf, but something about the way she stood told Lisa she was completely aware of her every move. Of course, this wasn't any normal woman—she was the wife of a man on the FBI's most wanted list. She had to have uncommon skills just to stay alive.

She lathered her hair and dropped beneath the surface of the water, and when she came out, Anoo was sitting next to the tub on a padded stool, her head now wrapped in a shawl. Lisa jumped a bit in surprise, naturally shielding her stomach as she did, and Anoo just gave her a little smile. Looking behind her and at the mirror, Lisa noticed that there was a lanky girl, no more than six or seven years old, standing behind Anoo. She peeked out, her long, wavy hair spilling down by her mother's hips.

'This is my daughter Hediyeh,' muttered Anoo before speaking to the girl in Farsi, her tone quite punishing. 'She is not supposed to wander about the chambers specifically for this reason.'

'Hello,' Lisa said, dropping below the waterline a bit.

'She doesn't speak any English, so don't try,' Anoo said, dropping the razor on the side of the tub and turning to give instructions to her daughter. The girl scampered off and before the bathroom door closed, Lisa could see her sit primly on a couch outside.

Lisa finished in the bath and splashed some water on her face, grimacing inwardly at the state of her unshaved legs. She smiled a bit at the memory of Jackson shaving her legs, letting out a little laugh as she stood. Anoo handed her a robe and a towel before leading her out where Hediyeh was sitting, playing with the fabric of folded clothes next to her. When her mother and Lisa exited, she picked up the pile and brought it to Lisa, offering it up to her with a smile.

'_Shukran_,' said Lisa, taking the clothes and pressing them to her chest.

'_Ahlan wa shalan_,' Hediyeh replied, her hands clasped behind her back and twisting back and forth at her hips—Lisa was amazed at how socially immature the girl appeared to be.

'Hediyeh,' Anoo spat, and her daughter ran over to sit back on the couch before Anoo turned back to Lisa. 'Change.'

Lisa turned her back to them and shrugged the robe off her shoulders, setting the clothes on the bureau in front of her. She felt awkward undressing in front of the girl, but after looking at her in the reflection of the mirror, she could tell the feeling wasn't mutual. Looking over the clothes, she unfolded them and dressed quickly, finding them to be very comfortable Moroccan-style clothing that consisted of long, baggy pants and a dress that went to below her knees. Anoo came up behind her and took her hair out of the towel, brushing it carefully and then tying it back in a plait like her own before pulling on a headband-like cloth to cover her hairline. Once it was in place, she picked up another light cloth from the bureau and pulled it onto Lisa's head, smoothing out the fabric around her face.

'Please just tell me one thing,' Lisa said, pulling at the sleeves of her dress nervously as she studied her own hijab-framed face in the mirror. 'Is my husband dead?'

Anoo set the brush back down on her bureau. 'No.'


	29. 13 May 2006

A/N: Whee, I'm starting my first nursing job on Monday as a CNA! Pretty low down on the ladder, but hey, gotta start somewhere.

---

Three days later, Jackson had his face pressed against the window of a military transport, looking out at the deep waters of the Black Sea. In the cargo hold of the aircraft, there were CIA agents sitting along the walls, strapped into the fold-down seats around the weapons and other supplies needed for the base. The pilot and co-pilot, two relatively young female Air Force officers, began flipping switches, reporting their beginning descent into the Incirlik Army Base on the Mediterranean Sea edge of Turkey. To his left sat Charles Keefe, obviously uncomfortable, his jaw set and his face stony. Occasionally, he stole a glance at Jackson that the younger man wouldn't have noticed except for the fact that he could see the reflection in the window.

'Please buckle your seatbelt, Director Keefe. We'll be landing in a few minutes,' said the co-pilot, looking back at the two of them.

'Rippner, you heard the Major. Face front.'

Jackson rolled his eyes a bit before tightening his seatbelt and looking at the low bun and back of the hat of the woman in front of him. They began losing altitude quickly, and within a couple of minutes landed jarringly on the airstrip at Incirlik. With the propellers still spinning, the women pulled the plane into place, flipping even more switches as the whirring slowed. There was the noise of the agents in the back unclipping their seatbelts and the cargo door opening with a clatter.

'Colonel Dorothy Worthington reporting the arrival of the military transport from Ramstein.'

'Roger, Colonel. Ground services approaching transport to guide passengers to base.'

'Understood.'

A group of soldiers ran in formation to the plane as the pilots unbuckled and stood, passing Keefe and Jackson as they left the cockpit and climbed down into the hold. After they disappeared, Keefe looked Jackson in the eyes.

'I don't trust you.'

'I don't trust you either.' They stared each other down before Jackson spoke again. 'I'm going after her myself.'

'You're staying here on the base where I can watch you.'

Jackson unclipped his seatbelt and stood, looking down at Keefe. 'She's my wife. I'm not entrusting her safety to a bunch of g-men.'

'Get down off your high horse, Rippner. Your techniques don't work. If they did, you'd be happy at home in Vermont and eight people would be alive.'

Grinding his teeth together, Jackson followed after the pilots, slipping down the ladder. By the time Keefe got down after him, Jackson was on the edge of the cargo hold and walking onto the tarmac. The older man ran after him, but he was understandably avoiding and turned his back on Keefe as soon as the older man caught up with him. One of the agents came up to ask Keefe questions before he could talk to Jackson, and Keefe watched as Jackson was led off by the pilots of the transport, who appeared to be chatting animatedly to him, trying to cheer him up.

'Hey, don't worry; this is a political kidnapping. We deal with these all the time, and Hezbollah's one of the more easy-going organisations,' said the almost alarmingly happy co-pilot.

'Yeah, I'm sure that's why they have members all over the FBI's most wanted list,' the pilot replied dryly.

'Shut up, Dorothy.'

Jackson decided at that moment that he liked the brunette co-pilot better than the blonde pilot.

'But seriously, don't worry. Your wife's gonna be just fine,' she said with a smile, patting him on the back.

'What's your name?' he asked, motioning to the pocket of her fatigues that just said Couturier.

'Phoebe,' she said, rolling her eyes. 'Lame name, I know.'

As they entered the building closest to the tarmac, the pilots removed their hats and continued bickering and eventually laughing as they went to check in with the office. They disappeared for just a moment before Dorothy returned, pulling Jackson by the arm to present him to the head of the base. Both women stood at attention as the general entered the room, but Jackson just stood laxly, looking the man down.

'You must be Jackson Rippner.'

He nodded, but didn't answer.

'I've been told you're up-to-date on all intelligence regarding your wife?'

'Up until this morning,' Jackson answered, looking sideways at the pilots next to him, who were still standing straight up.

'At ease, ladies.'

They stood down and Jackson couldn't help but think that 'at ease' wasn't at all, well, at ease. He rubbed the back of his head before looking back at the general.

'I'd like permission to go out and search for her on my own.'

'You'll need permission from Keefe to—'

'I've already expressed my wish to Keefe, and he's not supporting it. But you have to understand, I know people in this area, and even though they won't want to help the authorities, they'll help me. I'll wear a tracking device, go ahead and microchip me, I don't care, just let me go out on my own,' he said quickly. 'I bet my citizenship I'll find her before you do.'

The general thought it over, never wavering in his glare at Jackson. 'It's risky.'

'The risk doesn't faze me.'

The man paced in front of them, looking at the two pilots before looking back at Jackson. 'You'll take one of the soldiers from the base with you to keep tabs on you.'

Jackson laughed a little. 'I'm not a criminal. You'll be keeping me on your scope via satellite if you put a tracker on me.'

'Technology can be tampered with.'

'Men can be killed.'

Silence permeated the room until the door opened and agents began spilling in. The general met Keefe's eyes and the two left the room, leaving the crowd of chattering agents and Jackson standing tensely next to the two officers. The brunette gave him a reassuring look and he relaxed a bit without really knowing why. She looked at her friend and both smiled a bit as though there were some joke between them. They stood at attention again as the general and Keefe came back into the room.

'Worthington, Couturier,' said the general, looking at the two women. 'You'll escort Mr Rippner to his quarters. Be sure he doesn't leave the base.'

Obediently, the women took Jackson's arms and led him from the room. After only a little fight and some harsh words from the blonde pilot, he gave up and let them lead him across the base to a Spartan room.

---

Jackson didn't think he'd ever get to sleep, so when he was awoken with a start, he was surprised. Soft hands covered his mouth and he could hear the person next to him move down to his ear before whispering.

'No noise. Come with me.'

He sat up quietly, grabbing his coat from over the end of his bed then following the person out into the moonlight. Once out there, he realised it was a woman dressed in a flight suit, and when she turned back for a moment to make sure he was following her, he recognised her as Major Phoebe Couturier. They walked along in silence until they were on the tarmac at which time she threw him a green flight suit.

'Put this on,' she said, and then turned her attention to the F/A-18F Super Hornet fighter jet next to them.

As she climbed up into the jet, slipped her pack into the storage, and began looking over the controls, he put the flight suit on over his pyjamas and then threw his coat over his shoulder. She looked down at him from the plane.

'Think you can handle radar?'

He raised an eyebrow at her and then started climbing the ladder into the radar intercept officer's seat. 'I think I can handle piloting if you want me to.'

She laughed a little and then punched the button that pulled shut the dome over the cockpit. Flipping switches, she watched as the lights flashed on and the engines roared to life. They pulled out onto the tarmac and Phoebe put on her helmet, a move that Jackson copied. He could hear her muttering over the closed circuit between them, and within a moment they started speeding down the runway. Soon, they were heading almost due east, but Jackson could tell from the flight-plan that they were going to be flying over Syria and onto a base in western Iraq.

'What are you doing?' came Jackson's voice over the circuit.

He watched her head turn slightly, but because of the mask, he couldn't see her face. 'I'm taking you to Syria.'

'Well, yeah...' he muttered back, slightly taken aback. 'But this is a Naval plane, and you're in the Air Force. Aren't we going to be shot down? Or maybe you'll be court-martialled?'

'I won't be court-martialled for this flight; they asked me to take the plane into Iraq. It was in for repairs at Incirlik,' she replied with a little laugh. 'But I might be court-martialled for knocking out the intercept officer and leaving her hidden in the hangar.'

Truly, Jackson found himself liking this woman more and more. 'You're not worried about that?'

'No,' she answered immediately as they took a sharp turn and started going south. 'This means more to me than some silly officer title.'

He hated to be the person asking so many damn questions, but he was curious. 'Why is that?'

There was a long pause, and then she cleared her throat before speaking with some uncertainty. 'My parents were embassy workers in Beirut and died in that truck bombing in 1984.'

He couldn't think of anything to say, especially because he didn't know how to interpret her tone. 'Oh.'

'_They've_ been investigating it since it happened, but they still haven't caught the heads of the problem,' she spat. 'Your wife will never be found if they're the only one's looking for her. The government has to keep _some _face, so they can't be as pervasive as I know you can be.'

Jackson smirked a bit.

'We'll land at a new airfield right off the Euphrates, just a few kilometres from Syria's border. When we land, let me handle the ground crew. I know what they want to hear.'

The moon had disappeared from the horizon when they began their descent over the deserts of western Iraq. Out of the darkness came blinking lights lining the makeshift runway, and Jackson could hear as Phoebe dropped the landing gear and the rush of air increased. The reverse thrust enacted as they hit the ground, slowing the plane before they ran off of the runway. Once stopped, she pulled the jet over to the hangar where it was immediately assailed by the ground crew. After opening the cockpit, both of them alighted and Phoebe pulled off her helmet, smiling at the uniformed men around her as she put her pack over her shoulders.

'Here you are, good as new,' she said, gesturing at the plane, but most of them were looking at Jackson oddly.

'Where's Milla?'

'She was bitten by a spider last night when she went out for a jog, so the doctors decided to keep her on base to be safe. This is Lieutenant Junior Grade Noel Grieg with the Navy. He was just deployed from Pensacola.'

They still looked iffy about him, having not been warned of the woman's replacement, but went about their business preparing the plane for its eventual use in combat. Jackson lifted the visor of his flight helmet and went over to Phoebe, who quietly led him out onto the tarmac. It was still nearly pitch black outside, but Jackson could hear the Euphrates flowing somewhere near them. They stood leaning against the building until one of the officers from inside came out and threw a set of keys to Phoebe.

'Your Humvee is in the other hangar. They're expecting you in Hadithah by 1000 hours, so you might want to consider leaving soon.'

With that, he was gone, and immediately Phoebe went to the hangar, Jackson close behind her.

'I can take you as far as Busayrah,' she said as she climbed into the vehicle, throwing her pack into the back. 'I brought you a satellite phone so you can call any contacts you have in Syria or the region. There are also some MREs and water, enough for a few days at least.'

She started up the Humvee and they pulled out of the hangar and onto a dirt road weaving along the river. Jackson climbed into the back and got out the phone, calling his one main contact he knew would be in the area.

---

Long after Phoebe left, Jackson stood in the marketplace of Dayr az Zawr. He'd been able to get a ride from a few miles north of Busayrah with some farmers who were heading into the city for supplies, and was honestly happy to be in a larger city than Busayrah, a place where he was offered more anonymity. The last intelligence had placed Hezbollah somewhere in central Syria within the circle of the large cities of Dayr az Zawr, Hamah, Hims and Damascus. His contact was sure to have more information than he, however, so he was actually vaguely looking forward to seeing her damned face.

'Jackson,' she said in her thick Ukrainian accent, stepping up behind him as she picked at a pomegranate. 'Good to see you made it to Syria alive.'

He turned around quickly to the sight of Lyna dressed head-to-toe in a long black dress and pants, her feet covered in black slippers. She wore a scarf over her head and large black sunglasses, and her lips, which were currently emotionless, were painted dark red.

'Good to see you made it safely out of the United States.'

She smirked from behind the pomegranate. 'Pity your wife did not.'

His eyes narrowed as he pushed her into an alley. 'What do you know?'

'I know that your psychiatrist enjoys your wife almost as much as you do,' she said, popping a sour seed into her mouth and chewing it slowly. 'Of course, she does not share the enjoyment.'

The only image in Jackson's mind was the scar over Lisa's right breast, and his face contorted at the thought. 'When—how did you find this out?'

'The leadership of Syria is participating in this situation,' Lyna said quite matter-of-factly, licking her fingers after she said it. 'And I have connections in the government.'

'Then you know where Lisa is.'

She shook her head, jutting out her lip a bit. 'They are not _that_ participant. But I do know the general area.'

'_I_ know the general area. The American government has got that far.'

'No,' she said, pulling a paper out of the pocket of her overcoat. 'I was able to put a tracking device on one of my boy toys, and before he was shot, I got this.'

He took it from her, devouring the information on the page, and turned to run out onto the street when Lyna grabbed him and pulled him back into the shadows. She pulled down her sunglasses and gave him a dark look, her lips pinched together. From the same pocket, she pulled out a set of keys and a handgun.

'Listen to me,' she said, shoving the items into his hand. 'Do not underestimate these people, Jackson. Members of the organisation have fractured from the ideology and are far more dangerous than their spiritual leader wishes them to be. They will not hesitate to kill you if they find you before you get to your wife.'

They stared at each other for a long moment, each knowing there was no way to convince the other. She was going to fight whatever he wanted to do, and he knew she didn't have an inkling of the depth of feeling he had for Lisa. Her life was a series of affairs and killings, his one of physical and emotional detachment and manipulation. Pocketing the gun and paper, he rattled the keys in front of her face with raised eyebrows and a mocking look.

'Where's the bike?'

There was a flicker of emotion in her pale eyes before she covered them once more with the dark glasses. Raising a thin hand, she pointed across the plaza, and by the time he looked from the motorcycle back to where she'd been standing, she was at the other end of the alley and disappeared into a crowd of farmers selling goods at market.

---

The military police were waiting for Phoebe when she pulled into Hadithah. She didn't even attempt any sort of fight, so it wasn't ten minutes before she was placed in isolation to wait for Charles Keefe's arrival in the small Iraqi city. The day was hot, so she took her flight suit off and stood around in civvies watching Al-Jazeera on the television. No new tapes had been released by Hezbollah, so the news was just about the normal day-to-day in the Middle East. Honestly, she was expecting to have some news about Jackson from the network considering how gung-ho he was about saving his wife, but it seemed as though there was some intervention or he was just moving more slowly than normal. After all, she realised, it hadn't been that long since he'd been left for dead in a snowy field in Vermont.

She turned with a smile as the door opened and Keefe walked in, leaving his guard detachment behind. There was rage painted across his face, but he didn't even come close to fazing her.

'Good morning, Director Keefe.'

'Considering your record, this was unexpected, Major,' he said through clenched teeth.

'What was unexpected? I delivered the Super Hornet without any issue,' she said quickly. 'And by now, Lieutenant Hartmann should be awake and feeling good.'

'That's not the point,' he hissed, taking a step closer to her. 'Jackson Rippner is needed for negotiations. If he's AWOL, Hezbollah will be much less willing to make deals.'

'There'll be no need for deal-making,' Phoebe said with sudden fire. 'He's going to find her and Hezbollah.'

'You're just as idealistic as he is,' Keefe said, narrowing his eyes and running a hand through his hair. 'Rippner has no idea what he's getting himself into. He needed to stay with us for his own protection and the safety of his wife. All he's going to accomplish is more trouble for all of us.'

There was something odd in his voice and Phoebe found herself taken aback. He paced a bit in front of her, giving her the odd glance every now and then as though he was considering asking her something. Finally, after looking back to assure that the door was closed and his guards were occupied, he looked her straight in the eye.

'Couturier,' he said in a low voice. 'Tell me, what did you use on Milla Hartmann?'

A little smile curled across her face and her eyes lit in recognition. 'Ativan.'

He nodded before crossing the room and motioning to the head of the base. The uniformed man came over and saluted him, standing at attention after Keefe saluted back.

'I'll be taking Couturier back to Incirlik for me for questioning.'

'Sir, with all due respect...'

'Brigadier General,' Keefe interrupted. 'The man that Major Couturier took with her from Incirlik is our main bartering chip with Hezbollah for the safe return of Lisa Rippner. We have to use _her_ to find him now. I am in charge of this operation and all goings-on at Incirlik are to be regulated and controlled by me.'

'Sir, yes sir.'

'Please place her under arrest, cuff her, and have her escorted to the transport.'


	30. 15 May 2006

A/N: hehe, I look like an idiot in my uniform: pics. (slash) jaggedapple (slash) pic (slash) 0003951f

---

The next day was the first day that Lisa was allowed to walk around outside with the Mugniyahs and a group of guards. Dressed like a normal woman in an Islamic nation, she fit in with the crowd; there were no raised eyebrows at the wealthy Mugniyah and her retinue. People in the town just went about their normal business, not even vaguely cognisant of the fact that the 'friend' walking with Anoo Mugniyah and her young daughter was in fact handcuffed to the Iranian woman. Lisa's face was almost completely obscured by a headscarf, just her eyes and a few stray curls falling out around her forehead.

'Keep your eyes ahead,' Anoo said in a warning tone, yanking her arm so that the end of the cuffs on Lisa dug into her wrist. 'When people go out together, they don't look at the ground, they look at each other or the path ahead.'

Lisa sighed and looked at the streets in front of them. Everything was washed out by the May sun overhead, and as she squinted at the sky, the lead guard of the retinue shoved the butt of his gun into her hip. Grumbling, she watched Hediyeh dancing around in front of them, her dark curls glistening in the sun even from under her hijab. Anoo watched her from behind dark glasses, but it was obvious she was completely fine with her daughter running off ahead of the group.

'Things are going to change.'

Her heart leapt for joy until she looked at Anoo, who had started walking very tensely. 'What do you mean?'

'I overheard my husband speaking to the other men,' she said softly. 'Your husband has disappeared from the American base.'

A look of confusion swept over her pale face and she stopped walking, but was quickly pulled forward once more by her tether. 'Why should that matter?'

Anoo was silent as they turned around at the edge of town and started walking back to the palace Hezbollah was using. Lisa paused, however, looking out in the distance at a familiar landscape. One of the men noticed the recognition in her eyes and cocked his gun, pointing it at her head. The people walking the streets responded by clearing into alleys and buildings, something that Anoo didn't want to happen. She twisted about, her hands out, and moved forward quickly to grab her daughter, who had stopped playing and was looking at the empty streets. The girl laid her head on Anoo's shoulder and looked with confusion at Lisa, who had been dragged after her mother but still had one of the guards pointing a gun at her.

Growling, Anoo shoved Hediyeh into Lisa's free arm and dug into the pocket of her overcoat, retrieving a gun. Lisa pressed Hediyeh's head into her neck as Anoo shot the guard, and within seconds, they were walking once more, Lisa holding the girl awkwardly as her mother strode along with the remaining guards following quickly after. As they walked back, Lisa kept sneaking glances at the horizon until she was pushed into the palace and the doors closed behind them. Anoo unlocked her side of the handcuffs and went to the first person she saw, Philip Greene.

'Greene,' she spat, ripping off her headscarf and sunglasses. 'How many times do I have to warn you to tell the men to leave her alone?'

Greene gave a smouldering look to Lisa, who in response held Anoo's daughter more tightly, the chain of the cuffs clinking softly. 'I'm just her physician, Madame Mugniyah. If you want the guards to treat her with more civility, you'll need to take it up with your husband.'

Seeing the look he gave to Lisa, she clenched her jaw. 'I don't want you touching her.'

He gave her an odd look, putting his hands on his hips with a little laugh. 'I'm her doctor, but I'm not supposed to touch her?'

'You know exactly what I mean, Greene,' the Iranian said, narrowing her eyes. 'Lisa will be staying with me from this point on, and you will not examine her alone.'

'I think that's a decision for your husband to make, not you,' he replied coldly, leaning in closer to her face.

'What decision is that?' said another voice, walking into the foyer.

Anoo immediately dropped her glasses and wrapped her head in the scarf again. Although Lisa thought it was Imad Mugniyah walking into the room, when Hediyeh tried to climb up Lisa's side more, she became very uncomfortable and noticed the tension in the room. From the shadows on the floor, she could tell that two people had walked in, but was hesitant to look up; she was vaguely ashamed of how weak she was allowing herself to be in this situation.

'Grand Ayatollah,' said Greene, nodding slightly to the man as Anoo stood demurely glaring at him. 'I wasn't aware that you were coming here.'

'You weren't meant to,' the old man said. 'Madame Mugniyah expressed concern regarding the safety of the hostage. Anoo.'

The woman looked up at Fadlallah, unwrapping her scarf a bit to give him a little smile. 'It's good to see you again, Grand Ayatollah. I didn't expect you to get here so soon.'

'You know my feelings on issues such as this,' he replied darkly. 'Shall we take this to your quarters?'

Lisa looked up as Anoo walked over and took her by the forearm. There were two men looking at her as they stood by an open door to her left. One she recognised as Imad Mugniyah from files she'd gone through on Jackson's desk one night, but the other was foreign to her. Greene had his arms crossed uncomfortably across his chest and glared at her before the Middle Eastern men stepped by him and down the hallway. Anoo motioned for one of her bodyguards to move between the women and Greene, and once there was good distance, she followed her husband and the sheik. They moved to Mugniyah's huge office and paused outside the door to leave Hediyeh to one of the guards stationed outside of the door.

'So you're Lisa Rippner,' the old man said as the two women walked in.

The men were seated in chairs around a central table and the oldest one seemed keenly interested in the burqa-wearing American. Anoo nudged past her, going to sit next to her husband and leaving her centre stage. Slowly, she reached up to remove the headscarf, letting her curly brunette hair fall around her shoulders. She ran her fingers through her hair uncomfortably, avoiding the men's eyes.

'How have they been treating you here?'

'The last few days have been very good,' she said with the sudden understanding of why her husband never lied—it had the ability to become extremely dangerous. 'Madame Mugniyah has taken very good care of me.'

'And the men?'

She swallowed audibly, running her hands down to clutch around her stomach nervously. 'I haven't spent a lot of time with the men.'

Fadlallah leaned back in his chair, putting a finger to his lips as he formulated a thought. 'I want you to be assured that you may say anything you feel needs to be said. You have just as many rights as the others in this room.'

_Then why am I being held against my will far away from my husband and family?_ she thought, but didn't vocalise it. Clearing her throat, she finally looked up at him and stared him in the eye. 'I don't want Dr Greene to be my physician anymore.'

Greene moved to the edge of his seat, but a look from Mugniyah stopped him. Lisa glared at him with the knowledge that she was far above him, and for the first time since they left Miami, she felt liberated. The feeling was squelched, however, when Fadlallah looked at her darkly.

'What is wrong with Dr Greene?'

'Grand Ayatollah...' Anoo said softly, pleadingly. 'Please don't make her uncomfortable. She is already upset and at this point, it's very dangerous.'

Lisa leaned back against the door lightly when Fadlallah turned his attention to Anoo. 'She's already told you?'

She shook her head. 'It's simply understood.'

The sheik nodded. 'I don't want any of the men alone with her. When she is around them, she is to be fully clothed with a headscarf and escorted by the Madame. She will stay in Anoo's chambers with Anoo and Hediyeh until her government arranges for her release.'

Anoo stood and went to Lisa, opening the door and urging her out. Before leaving, Lisa looked at Greene's face and was unsettled by how well he was taking the insinuations put forth by Anoo and herself, but she didn't have too much time to muse before Mugniyah stood and came to the door, closing it in her face.

---

Late that night, Jackson stood in the ruins of Zenobia's Palmyra looking at the town of Tadmor in the distance. Looking down at the GPS in his hand, he walked along the decumanus to the Temple of Baal, climbing up the two tall stairs to stand in the centre of the four towers. Pulling out a flashlight, he checked the co-ordinates on the GPS screen and then ran the light over the stones, seeing a splattering of blood beneath his feet. The body of Lyna's contact was nowhere to be found—he wasn't surprised. Clicking off the light, he again looked at Tadmor with narrowed eyes and began walking back to his motorcycle, which was parked in the agora. He'd only gone a few steps, however, when he turned around and brandished the gun that Lyna had given him in the city the day before.

His eyes flitted around in the dark, trying to make out any movement around the ruins. A stone rolled behind him, making him turn quickly and cock the gun as he lined up the flashlight for use as a sight. He watched the stone roll down a worn-down rock before snapping around and punching his attacker in the stomach. The man crumpled to the ground and Jackson kicked away his machine gun before shining the light in his face.

'_Hetiimal eh_?' Jackson asked, scrunching his face up in rage when the man didn't answer immediately. Stepping on his chest, he shoved down with his foot and continued in Arabic. 'Do you understand? _What are you doing_?'

The man shook under Jackson's foot before speaking softly. '_Mestani awamer_.'

Jackson's face grew hard as he moved his foot to the man's neck. 'Orders from who?'

His attacker just gave him a dirty look and a little smirk. Fuelled by adrenaline, Jackson shot the man in the femur before turning around and taking a step to the second attacker, shoving the gun into his pocket, and taking the man's neck into his hold. With one swift movement, he broke the man's neck and let the body drop to the ground. His eyes were crazed when he caught up to the first man, who was trying to limp away. He shoved him against a pillar, holding his neck as he pushed him upwards with the barrel of the gun pressed to his chin.

'Where is my wife?' he demanded through clenched teeth as he pressed harder on the man's windpipe. _'Where are they holding her_?'

Despite the situation, the man was unyielding and wasn't even fighting against Jackson's hold.

'I will not hesitate to kill you, _maf hoom_?' Jackson hissed. '_Ana abgha_—'

A shot rang through the air and hit the man directly in the centre of his forehead. Jackson turned with wide eyes and dropped the body, hiding himself behind the pillar as another bullet ricocheted off of the stones around him. He pressed himself against the smooth stone, holding the gun near his chest as he peeked around the outside edge. In the light of the full moon, he could see someone perched on top of a row of columns with full sniper gear. He slipped down when a red laser point rested on his forehead, and a second later, fragments of stone rained down on him.

Cursing softly, Jackson looked at the far-away agora. In his peripheral vision, he could see the man who'd been shot by the sniper, and considering the incredible accuracy of the shot, Jackson wasn't sure if it would be worth it to even try to escape. Carefully, he lay down on the dust and started crawling slowly along the base of the wall, and had almost made it to the edge of the wall when the sniper, upset by his disappearance, began firing shots along the length. Jackson pressed himself completely flat and started breathing very lightly, listening for the man on the wall.

There was a loud thump as he jumped down from his perch, and Jackson could hear him edging along the walkway. Swallowing, he rolled onto his back, holding his gun at the ready as the sniper made his way closer to Jackson's hiding place. As soon as the moonlight was blocked, Jackson sprang to his feet and fired blindly before sprinting off in the direction of the agora. He got a good head start and was nearly three-quarters of the way to his motorcycle when the man started firing again.

Reaching the agora, Jackson climbed on the bike and started it up before looking back in the direction he came. The man was holding his stomach as he moved slowly towards Jackson, his rifle discarded and now using a large handgun with a silencer. As a bullet hit the ground next to him, he sped off towards the lights of the city, keeping a vague eye on the sniper until he saw the man fall. His eyes back on the ruins in front of him, Jackson sped up and went through a collapsed section of the city wall.

He cut through the dusty landscape, keeping his focus on Tadmor. The city grew closer, and when he finally reached the outskirts, he was relieved to find no one on the streets. Pulling into an alley, he hid the motorcycle behind a dumpster and pulled a mask and small pack from the left pannier. He put the mask on and edged to the street, scanning back and forth before creeping out into the downtown towards the building he'd had his sights set on since he first saw it from the ruins. It was the largest in town and also happened to be the only one with security lighting. Squatting behind a post box across the street from it, he looked warily at the guards that stood in front of the gate. With a smirk, he pulled a grenade from his pack and yanked out the pin with his teeth, tossing it down the street. The guards jumped and shot down after it right before it exploded, sending dusty asphalt into the air.

As the alarms started going off around the perimeter of the palace, Jackson got to his feet and sprinted through the dust, smashing himself up against one end of the stone wall as more guards piled out of the front door, guns at the ready. He ran along the wall, crouched down, until he got to a place where the guards could no longer see him. Throwing a hook into the air, he grinned as it caught on the top of the wall and he almost immediately began climbing. He sat on the top for just a moment before throwing himself down onto the surprisingly plush grass and sneaking over to press himself against the outer wall of the palace. Listening, he determined the guards were still dealing with the explosion outside, so he looked straight up to the roof, nearly gleeful when he found that the stones making up the wall were bulky enough to climb.

Once on the roof, Jackson peeked over the crest to survey the havoc he'd created before slipping down the back and looking for an opening to drop through. He wasn't completely lucky, however, and found that the roof was quite solid. The windows were tall, however, so after attaching a tether to a steam pipe, he dropped down between two windows and looked in one of them.

'What the—'

His tether gave out and he grabbed frantically to the windowsill, hanging as the stone tiles of the roof fell down around him. Through the glass, he could hear someone approaching, so after just a short look down, he let himself drop the storey into the bushes at the bottom. The windows flew open and Musab Reza leaned out, scanning where Jackson had fell, but he had disappeared from the area.

Just inside, Anoo sat with lanky little Hediyeh curled in her arms as Lisa looked up at the ceiling. Hediyeh was crying softly and pressed herself into her mother each time the chandelier above their heads shook. Only about twenty minutes earlier, Musab and Greene with most of the guards had stormed into Anoo's quarters where the Mugniyahs and Fadlallah had been taking evening tea. Lisa had been sleeping in Anoo's room, but she was of no concern at that moment—they had taken Fadlallah and Imad Mugniyah at gunpoint and left the women locked in the room with two armed guards. Shortly afterwards, there was a scuffle in the main foyer between the guards loyal to the Mugniyahs and those loyal to Reza, and ever since then, there had been the sound of executions directly above them.

An explosion in the street had left them without guards, but the sounds above continued until there was a noise right outside the window. The women perked up and turned to see a man roll away from the window. Lisa's hand flew to her mouth and she ran to the window, waiting to hear receding footsteps above her before pulling the window open.

'Jackson!' she whispered to the yard, looking around frantically before finally settling her gaze straight in front of her where a pair of familiar blue eyes were hovering in the dark bushes.

Leaning forward slightly, she reached for him but paused when the footsteps went back to the window above them. They both backed into their hiding places until the window snapped shut, and almost immediately Jackson was beside her ripping off his ski mask. He closed the window softly before pulling her away from it. Once a safe distance from the glass, he took her into his arms, holding her tightly with the side of his face pressed to hers. He let go just to take the sides of her face softly and look into her eyes, which were rimmed with happy tears as she smiled at him.

'Are you all right?' he asked, giving her a pained smile. 'Did they hurt you?'

'I'm fine now,' she said breathily through tears as she reached up to run her fingers through his hair and her thumb along the angry red tissue on his temple with a little frown.

'And Jonathan?' he murmured, pressing his forehead to hers and slipping his hands down to her stomach.

'You've only been away for two weeks,' she replied in a strained voice as she ran her hands along his stubbly chin, tears running down her face.

'Shh, Leese,' he whispered to her before pressing his lips to hers.

The kiss was short, interrupted by another gunshot and the sound of a dropping body overhead. He wrapped his arms around her protectively and looked over as if noticing the two other people in the room for the first time. Lisa pressed her head against his chest and looked at the Mugniyahs, holding her hands to her husband's back.

'Jackson, these people are—'

'Anoo and Hediyeh Mugniyah,' he said softly, rubbing the tips of his fingers up and down her spine. 'Wife and daughter of Imad Mugniyah.'

'Right,' she said like an afterthought as she studied his face, relieved to be able to touch him again.

'Come on, we need to get out now,' Jackson said, pulling her towards the window, but she stayed still.

'We can't leave them here,' Lisa replied unhappily before dropping her voice a bit. 'They'll kill them.'

'Leese...' he pleaded as he turned back to her, begging with his eyes, but she remained steadfast.

'Please,' she said softly, pulling herself to him and standing on her tiptoes.

Both turned as the heavy doors of the room opened and Mugniyah and Fadlallah were shoved in. Metal clicked against metal as the guards raised their guns up and cocked them in response to Jackson, who was shielding Lisa from them. The men yelled at someone behind them, and soon there were fast footsteps coming down the marble hallway. Philip Greene and Musab Reza appeared and Lisa made a little noise, which made Jackson try to screen her more.

'Well, this is vaguely unexpected,' said Greene with a grin. '_Salam alekum_.'

The Arabic speakers in the room seemed upset by what Greene said, which confused Lisa, and barely moving his lips, Jackson spoke back. '_Wa alekum es salam_.'

'It is a pity that you worked so hard,' Musab said, stepping past the guards and over to the Rippners. Jackson backed up until Lisa was pressed against the wall. 'We will not kill you right now. You are worth too much.'

Reza gestured to the guards and they came forward, pulling Jackson from Lisa and holding his arms behind him. Greene crossed the room and took Lisa's chin in his hand, pressing his lips to hers, which made Jackson fight against his captors. She stood emotionlessly, her eyes heavily lidded and unfocused as he ran his hands sensuously over her, looking at Jackson mirthfully as he did so. Anoo had started crying, covering Hediyeh's eyes, and Fadlallah's face was red with rage. Taking Lisa's arm harshly enough that she hissed in pain, Greene pulled her out of the room followed by Musab and the guards with Jackson.

---

'Deputy Director.'

Keefe looked up from the long conference table with papers all over it. The general murmur of the CIA agents stopped immediately, all eyes falling on Keefe as he looked at the young officer at the door.

'We've received new intelligence,' the man said. 'Rippner's tracking stopped in Tadmor, Syria, and soon afterwards, we received a new video from the hostage-takers.'

'Brief us,' Keefe said to him, and the man walked in, closing the door behind him.

'Lebanese Hezbollah has experienced a coup d'état. Two members, Musab Reza and Philip Greene, have become the new leadership, and the Mugniyah family and Ayatollah Fadlallah are being held in addition to both Rippners.'

'Both Rippners?' asked a short CIA agent who was standing next to Keefe.

'Jackson Rippner has been apprehended.'

The murmur started back up in the room, but this time, it was more frenzied. A group of agents left quickly to go to the intelligence room, pushing past the officer without a second thought. Keefe was picking nervously at a staple on the paper in front of him, but his gaze was still on the officer.

'How soon can we have an assault force in Tadmor?'

'The General has already started gathering troops,' he said. 'We'll be ready to leave by 1600.'

The same agent looked at Keefe, startled. 'Sir, are you sure an assault force is the best way to recover the hostages? If they've staged a coup and overthrown the leadership, they'd probably be willing to kill the Rippners also.'

'We'll use special forces only,' Keefe said, looking at the woman with a slight air of superiority. 'A small group, highly trained. I don't want other terrorist organisations to think that the United States will give in so easily to their threats.'


	31. Morning, 16 May 2006

A/N: ... for serious, see The Painted Veil. Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, jamais je ne t'oublierai...

---

'I don't like this room.'

Jackson looked in the direction of his wife's voice but couldn't see her in the darkness. After filming a new tape to be released on Al-Jazeera, they'd spent the night in Anoo's quarters, and their morning was spent watching Reza's men burn the bodies of the guards they'd killed the night before out on the lawn, but around mid-day, Greene had ordered them transported to a tiny room near the centre of the house. Before their captors had turned off the light and closed the door, he'd watched her be strapped to a dentist's chair as he was tied to an uncomfortable metal chair that had been bolted into the wall.

Jackson been working for the last fifteen minutes or so to loosen the gag in his mouth, and right after she spoke, he felt it finally drop against his chest. Smacking his mouth a bit, he wet his tongue.

'We'll get out of here, don't worry,' Jackson said, and he could tell by the shifting on the table that she was surprised that he could speak, but then she laughed.

'Jackson,' she said straightly. 'You're strapped to a chair that's attached to the wall of a lead panic room.'

'I already got the gag off, didn't I?'

She fell silent and he could hear her sigh a little bit. There was a slight sense of foreboding permeating the room, and all Jackson wanted to do was find a way out of his bindings and protect his wife from whatever was setting his mind on edge. He could hear all of the sounds in the hallway and tensed up whenever sounds got too close to the door for his liking. Metal clipped quietly against metal as he tried to figure out exactly how they had him rigged into the chair. Lisa was completely still and he thought that maybe she had fallen asleep when he suddenly heard purposeful footsteps outside of the door and immediately stopped moving. The door swung open, letting the late afternoon sun pour into their cell. Greene turned on the dim lights and looked alternately at both of them before closing the door behind him.

'Oh good, Jackson. They put you in the perfect position to watch.'

When Jackson looked at his wife, silent tears were falling down her face, but she wasn't fighting against the ties that held her down.

'Look how modest Anoo made you be, my sunshine,' Greene said, clucking a bit as he went over to her, fingering the hem of her Iranian-style dress. 'Long sleeves, long dress, long pants…'

Greene rolled the fabric slowly up to her chest and Jackson started working even more quickly on his bindings, not caring any longer if he was loud or not. The sight of the bruises all over his wife's chest was enough to set him off, and all she could do was look at him from the neck hole of her dress as Greene worked on getting the sleeves off. In a few minutes, one of the pieces of the chair was clinking loosely as Jackson looked at her battered arms, dark emotions coursing through his veins.

'There, sunshine,' he said breathily with a little laugh, throwing the cotton garment aside.

As Lisa twisted a little, Jackson could see the dark scar over her right breast. Sheer disgust filled him as Greene dropped off the robe he was wearing and pulled at the pants his wife was wearing, pushing them down to her ankles and exposing the healing gunshot wound and even more terrible bruising. Greene climbed slowly onto the chair with Lisa, giving her a lusty look before turning to smirk at Jackson. The younger man grimaced back as he caught a bar that he'd loosened from the chair before it clattered onto the seat. The handcuffs fell loosely from the bar and Jackson shifted to sit on the bar as he pulled a hairpin he'd stolen from Lisa's hair from the waist of his pants and began working on the lock that held a chain around his hips.

Lisa stared at the ceiling, her lips opened slightly, as Greene pushed her up a bit in the chair and put her thighs atop his. Her jaw tightened and her eyes closed as she felt him fingering her labia; despite the fact that her main source of comfort was in the room, she couldn't bring herself to look at him out of sheer embarrassment and pain. The scuffling across the room told her that he hadn't given up on her, and that was enough for the moment. She made a tiny noise as Greene thrust into her.

Heat flared to Jackson's face as Greene entered his wife and smiled at him victoriously. Surprisingly, he found tears springing to his eyes, and once Greene looked away, Jackson bent down and made fast work of the handcuffs holding his ankles to the chair. Quietly, he dropped all of the things he'd loosened onto the floor and then took the metal bar into his shaking hands, dropping his head forward to watch Greene from behind his dark brown fringe. He crept up behind the man, pausing when the doctor threw his head back in ecstasy, and then brought the bar back and swung it forward to hit Greene directly in the windpipe. The man gasped and grabbed at his throat as Jackson ripped him from Lisa and pushed him to the ground, landing harshly with a knee to the man's abdomen.

When Lisa opened her eyes, she could see just the bar swinging up and down violently. Greene couldn't scream because of the damage Jackson had done to his windpipe, so she could just hear the sick sound of the pipe as it crushed against bone, and soon blood was splattered on the ceiling from Jackson's upswing. Everything grew silent except for Jackson's shuttering breathing as he stood and looked down at Greene, sweat and blood running down his face. The metal clanged harshly as he dropped the bar and looked at his wife, quickly beginning to untie her before the guards realised that the noise wasn't something fetishist that Greene was doing to Lisa. He helped her sit up before striding over to get her dress, and when he came back, she was holding the sides of her stomach and breathing deeply.

He let out a strangled little laugh. 'Come on, Leese... we still have a month to go...'

As he moved to help her stand, however, he noticed that the white sheets covering the chair were now streaked with blood and mucus. She gave him a sad look. 'It's real this time.'

---

Anoo Mugniyah paced the length of her living room, Hediyeh close on her heels. The Rippners had been taken somewhere nearly three hours earlier, and whenever a new body was taken out to the yard, her heart would stop until her husband confirmed that it was one of the former members of their organisation. He had a list of members, and he and Fadlallah sat by the window with the book and a pen, marking off each person being dragged out to the fire. The Ayatollah was busy in prayer for the souls of the lost men.

It had been quiet in the corridor all day, but suddenly there were frenzied footsteps and the doors of Anoo's quarters flew open, revealing an incredibly angry Musab Reza and a team of guards. He shouted orders to them and soon the four members of the former Hezbollah leadership were being dragged through the foyer and out the front door. Looking down the hallway, Anoo could see Jackson taking on a group of guards with three dead at his feet already, but there was no sign of Lisa.

Once outside, the group was set down and lead out, surrounded by a ring of guards, to a waiting car. After they were locked in, two guards stayed by the vehicle and the rest went in to deal with Jackson.

Jackson looked past his current adversaries to the fresh group of men marching in the front door with a grimace. At first, the fight had been easy because of all of the supplies in the room behind him. Just a syringe of ammonia in that jugular, an IV stand to the head there, but he had underestimated the manpower Reza had behind him. Backing into the room once more, he slammed the metal door and pressed against it, giving his wife an apologetic look.

'I told you that you couldn't do it alone,' Lisa said, reclining in the chair between contractions. She had his watch on her wrist, using the alarm on it to time the space between, and both were utterly relieved that there was still a huge amount of time between each.

'It was worth a try,' he replied dryly, pressing harder against the door as the guards began trying to open it. They pushed strongly against it and Jackson tripped over Greene's body, landing on his knees next to Lisa but quickly standing and grabbing her hand.

One guard trained his gun on Lisa as the rest of them went around them. They were urged to their feet, but from the look on Lisa's face, Jackson could tell that she was trying to hide the fact that she was having another contraction. Slipping his arms under her, he picked her up carefully and she put one hand around the back of his neck and the other on her stomach. At first, the guards seemed intent on making him put her down, but after taking note of the condition of Philip Greene, they backed off and let him carry her down the corridor to the foyer and out to the car. By the time they'd reached the car, the contraction had passed, so he put her down and let her get into the car before he did. Once inside, they looked at the other members of their party.

'Where are they taking us?' Lisa asked as Jackson patted his lap, urging her to lie down across the seat and settle her head in his lap.

Anoo dropped her head back against the opaque divider that hid them from the driver, giving a questioning look at the two men who sat by the doors at the end. No one seemed to know, however, so they just fell silent as Lisa cleared the timer on Jackson's watch, and soon they were pulling away from the house. He ran his hand over her forehead, pushing her hair back from her face, and she decided to try a nap to build up some strength for the inevitable. Both of them had hoped that when this was happening, they'd be relaxing in their condo in Miami, lazily calling her parents to inform them of the goings-on and preparing to go to the hospital, not being trucked across Syria faced with the possibility of having to deliver their baby by themselves.

As the limo pulled away, life continued normally on the streets of Tadmor. A small group had gathered across the street, mostly consisting of small children with a couple of adults mixed in. They watched the convoy following the limo until all of the vehicles disappeared from the horizon in a cloud of dust, and then slowly the group broke up, leaving just one burqa-clad woman. She crossed the street and slipped unseen into the yard of the palace, moving quickly to inside the building. When the door closed behind her, Lyna pulled off the long veil she wore over her clothing, taking in her surroundings.

An associate had called her the night before to tell her that the American troops were moving in and could be expected by the next afternoon. She'd come immediately to Tadmor the same night under a pseudonym and stayed in a hotel near the palace, watching the action in the town. That morning, she'd become concerned by the smoke rising from behind the house, so she'd broken in to a house right beside the palace and watched carefully through a grimy window. She didn't recognise any of the bodies being burned, however, and had relaxed immensely when she spied Jackson and Lisa through the back window. Once they were taken, she'd gone down to the street, expecting their exodus.

Around the corner from her hotel, she'd found a small boy that she bribed with some candy that she always kept with her and walked down the street, the boy at her side, until right before the palace, where she stopped to look in a storefront. The boy ran forward and started playing around the limo, eventually slipping under it, which upset the guards. Just before they were going to pull him out from under the car, she ran up and apologised profusely from behind her veil, luring her 'son' out by holding an extra piece of candy, and then the two of them walked off, turning down an alley and splitting from each other as they went to different sides of town.

The bodies littering the hallway interested Lyna; she was convinced that all executed people had been discarded. These weren't executions, however, she realised as she came up to them, but rather death by blunt trauma and, from the smell of the syringe, injection of ammonia into the bloodstream. She pushed open the door next to the bodies and nearly tripped over another unrecognisable fatality that had a bloody bar lying next to it. Lyna scanned the room for anything helpful and immediately stared at the chair in the centre of the room. After a quick investigation of the pink-red stain, she cursed and pulled out a small GPS from her back pocket. The kid had been good at his job—every few seconds, the display would refresh, and she could see that the limo was heading northwest towards Aleppo.

Her gaze flew to the ceiling as a distant thumping started. Dropping the GPS atop the stain on the chair, she propped the door open with the bloody body in the room and ran out, throwing her burqa back on as she made it to the back door of the building. As American aircraft appeared from the north, Lyna climbed the south wall of the house and disappeared into the alleys, shaded by the long shadows of late afternoon. By the time the first wave of troops appeared, Lyna was gone and the Special Forces were appearing from their hiding places around town. Keefe and the task force leaders from each agency represented alighted and followed the troops into the empty house. There was an intense but short meeting between the leaders and Special Forces, but soon one of the troops appeared at the front door of the house holding aloft the GPS.

'Sir!' she yelled, running down to him with her assault rifle thrown across her back. 'We found this in a room on top of what looks like amniotic fluid.'

He took the GPS and stared at it, watching the screen refresh itself. Tadmor was in the bottom corner, and he turned quickly to return to the helicopter he'd flown in on, holding the GPS in front of Major Couturier's face. 'Do you recognise this?'

She looked around, seeing that no one had followed him. 'It belongs to an employee of my grandfather's company.'

He flipped the electronic gadget over and looked at the display once more. Leaning out of the helicopter, he yelled at the leadership group. 'We have their location, on the move towards Aleppo, and Lisa Rippner may be in labour! Everyone, back in your transports immediately!'


	32. Early Evening, 16 May 2006

They had been driving for about three hours when they suddenly stopped. Lisa's contractions were coming closer together and were stronger, and for the last thirty minutes she'd been laying on her side as Jackson rubbed her back, which had been hurting her as the baby shifted down in her womb. As they stopped, she took a sharp breath and moaned, grabbing on to the fabric of Jackson's pants as her uterus contracted for nearly a minute. Anoo rubbed her leg supportively, looking across the car at her husband with a worried look that he returned. The door next to Fadlallah flew open and guards started pulling them out of the car. Jackson and Lisa were the last to get out, Lisa walking on shaky legs until Reza yelled for them to hurry up and Jackson picked her up once again.

The driver had parked the car in an abandoned house that had its front blown out, Jackson realised as they walked to the main street of the town through the building. There were still the belongings of the family who lived there scattered about—some old, mouldy bread sitting on a counter, a newspaper dated back to February 1982, a few children's toys—all covered in a thick layer of desert dust. The main street was just as deserted with abandoned cars and bicycles littering them along with the debris from several explosions. Everyone stayed silent as they crunched over shards of glass and plaster, the guards keeping at attention for anyone who might be in the ghost town.

'Where are we?' Hediyeh asked Jackson, the first person she saw, in quiet Arabic.

'I don't know,' he answered as Lisa buried her face in his neck. 'But there aren't any people, are there?'

Hediyeh shook her head and slowed her walking to go right along next to Jackson, holding one of Lisa's bare feet. 'I don't like it here. I want to go home.'

'I want to go home too,' Jackson said to her in a small voice.

'Where do you live?'

'America,' he said, looking down at her wide, brown eyes. 'We live in a place called Miami, which is hot like it is here, but wet like when you're in a shower.'

Reza gave them a dirty look that told them to be silent, so one of the guards poked at Jackson with his rifle. Hediyeh gave the man a dark look and took a step closer to Jackson, her elbow hitting his hip as they walked along. After several minutes of silent walking, they finally came to a building that appeared mostly unharmed, and a couple of the guards ran up the stairs and opened the huge doors to the place, walking around in the foyer to make sure it really was abandoned. Once they gave Reza some swift nods, they all moved in and the doors were bolted behind them.

'Fadlallah, Mugniyah,' Reza said sharply. 'You will come with me. The rest of you will go with Rashid.'

For the first time, Jackson noticed that the foreman from Dubai was amongst the guards. The man gave him a toothy grin before going around Jackson and the women, shoving Anoo in the back with the side of his gun. Hediyeh curled in closer to Jackson, grabbing at his pants leg, and they were all led to a sitting room. The windowpanes had been painted black, but light was filtering in from thin spots and highlighting how dirty the air was with dust. Rashid pointed towards the dusty, moth-eaten couches in the centre of the room and they all went obediently over to them. When Hediyeh climbed up onto the couch, a puff of dust went up and made her sneeze violently. The guards outside of the door laughed and threw in some bottles of water and the MREs from Jackson's pack that they'd retrieved from the roads of Tadmor.

Rashid dismissed the guards and they fell back into the foyer, spilling out the front door. 'I'll be taking my leave now, but I won't recommend trying anything cute. Our troops are stationed by all of the windows and some will be roaming the hallways.'

They stayed perfectly still until he closed the door and they heard him throwing all of the locks. At that point, Jackson set Lisa down on her feet and motioned to Hediyeh to come over.

'Hediyeh, can you do me a favour?' he asked in a sugary voice. 'Walk Lisa around the room?'

Hediyeh looked to her mother for approval, and when Anoo nodded, she took Lisa's hand. Dropping down, Jackson grabbed up one of the bottles of water, and after a short swig, handed it to his wife, who started drinking it once Hediyeh pulled her away.

'Jackson and I need to talk, Hediyeh, so why don't you sing a song to Lisa so you can't hear us?'

The lanky girl gave a worried look at Lisa and then the two other adults in the room.

'Come on,' Anoo said with a sad smile. 'Do you remember Sad Sol?'

She nodded and softly started singing as she led Lisa across the room. Lisa looked at her husband nervously but knew this wasn't a time for questions, so she just followed after Hediyeh, listening to her youthful voice singing the Persian lullaby as she sipped at the bottle of water. She had her back to Jackson and Anoo when the two went to the far corner and began speaking in hasty, quiet Arabic.

'What do we do?' he asked, and Anoo could hear an edge of panic in his voice.

'Keep her comfortable,' Anoo resigned, giving him a sad look. 'There's not much else we can do than support her.'

Jackson ran a shaky hand through his hair, casting glances at his wife, who was trying to mimic Hediyeh's words, which made the little girl laugh. 'Our son can't be born in a dusty ghost town in Syria. She needs to be at a hospital.'

'Calm down,' Anoo said with a little laugh, which earned her an angry glance from Jackson. 'It could still be hours until anything of consequence happens.'

---

Twenty-five miles southeast of the ghost town was the city of Khirbat Isriyah in the Hamah governorate. American troops stood around with their weapons held laxly to their sides in the soft light surrounding the helicopters, the rotors still. A team of Arabic speakers had gone into the town an hour earlier to speak with local officials and townspeople very soon after the Syrian Embassy in Washington, DC gave them permission to do so. The General in charge of strategy and Keefe had spent the entire hour deciding how best to approach the area to the northwest, so by the time Couturier and Mahmoud-Pinte returned with some of the interpreters, they were ready to move again at a moment's notice.

'What can you tell me, agents?'

A young CIA agent stepped forward from the fray, obviously elected by the group to speak because of being the freshman. 'There were eight vehicles in the convoy escorting the bugged limousine, but no one seems certain about how many people there were all together. They told us anywhere from twenty-five to sixty armed guards.'

'What kind of equipment were they driving?'

The agent looked back at a brawny Marine. 'From the descriptions given by eyewitnesses, sir, we believe they were using M998 HMMWV Cargo/Troop Carriers.'

'So there could be up to eighty men, possibly,' said the General with a grimace.

'As far as we can tell, none of the Humvees were loaded to capacity. Four of them stopped in the town to pick up supplies, and in those four, there were only eleven men.'

'What do you believe would be a conservative estimate of the enemy's strength?' the General asked the Marine, who looked around at the other interpreters before answering.

'Thirty-five to forty men, sir.'

'Did the townspeople have any information about the town that we tracked them to?' asked Keefe, who had been silent up to that point.

'It's completely abandoned,' Couturier said. 'I spoke to a middle-aged woman at one of the stores where the convoy stopped, and she told me that she lived there back in the 1980s. The town was destroyed during the government's attack on the Muslim Brotherhood back in 1982. It was a last hold-out of the Brotherhood after the levelling of the old part of Hamah.'

The troops outside suddenly put up their guns, pointing them across the open field towards the city. In the pale moonlight, there was a person running towards them. The Marine and Couturier jumped out of the helicopter, Couturier pulling a pair of binoculars from an ALICE pack on the floor of the helicopter as she jumped and the Marine pulling out his firearm. Peeking through them, she recognised it as a young boy that had been at the store with the woman she'd interrogated.

'What—'

From the outskirts of the city came a rain of gunfire chasing after the boy. He was running as fast as he could, and had almost made it to the American outpost when one of the bullets hit him in the back. Flying forward, he fell face-first into the dust and was quickly surrounded by American troops who stationed themselves in formation around him. A group of them in full combat attire marched off to the city towards the area the gunshots came from as a troop scooped up the teenager and carried him off to the MedEvac helicopter, followed quickly by Couturier and screened by the troops still around the American helicopters. In the MedEvac, nurses started looking at his back, extracting the bullet and working on stopping the bleeding, but everyone knew they'd have to airlift the boy to the closest hospital when they started prodding at his leg and there was no pain response from him.

'Why did he come here?' asked the pilot, tapping at his headset to let Couturier know that the question was being fielded by Keefe or the General.

Shaking, Couturier bent down to the boy and asked him the question in Arabic as she pushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

'One...' he said, taking a sharp breath as the nurses poured disinfectant into the wound. 'One of the men didn't leave.'

'What men?'

'The men with the big trucks,' he said, grabbing at the sheets under the side of his face. 'After you left, he came back and killed my mother.'

'Oh my God,' Couturier breathed, and was about to translate for the pilot when she noticed that the Marine was doing it for her.

'He called someone,' the boy said, tears gathering in his eyes. 'He called someone and said that they were being followed.'

Couturier's mouth dropped open and she stared at the Marine, who was tense as he told the pilot what the boy had said. The pilot spoke into the headset, and after a few seconds, he started flipping switches and the rotors started on top of the helicopter.

'Everyone who's staying with the assault team, get off!' he said as his co-pilot climbed back into the vehicle and strapped into his seat. 'We need to lift the kid out ASAP so we can get back to deal with the hostages.'

Couturier and the Marine jumped out, holding their arms in front of their eyes as they moved away with the other troops, clouded in dust. Once they were a safe distance, the MedEvac lifted off and started off towards the southwest to Hamah. Couturier watched it until the Marine pulled her off with him back to Keefe's transport, which had the doors closed. Police sirens were starting in the city, casting red lights against the pale buildings, and soon there was more gunfire. The troops still out by the helicopters were silent as the squadron leader spoke into his walkie-talkie, listening in the hissing for a report from the men in the city.

'In pursuit of the subje—'

Suddenly, the night was illuminated by a large explosion. Afterwards, there was amazing silence and darkness as the smoke went up in the air, casting shadows on the American group. For a few seconds, the only sound was crumbling plaster and the spray of broken water mains, but then there came a breathy voice over the walkie-talkie.

'Smith to Alpha base,' it said, and there was the sound of moaning behind the voice. 'Alpha base, do you read?'

'Smith, this is Hall, we read you. What happened out there?' asked the man with the walkie-talkie frantically.

'The subject set fire to a gas main,' said the man on the other end. 'We're gonna need backup from Iraq and Turkey... there... there are a lot of casualties, civilian and military.'

'Dammit,' said Keefe, dropping out of the helicopter as the General began sending groups of the remaining troops in to aid the emergency officials responding to the explosion. 'Special Forces will need to go into the abandoned city alone.'

Hall looked at Keefe. 'Sir, our main purpose in this mission is to recover the hostages.'

Keefe ignored him. 'The Special Forces will keep an eye on the situation there until we can regroup and refocus our attention on the Rippners.'

'You heard him,' said the General as his troops marched off. 'Call in the closest air transport to drop the paratroopers near the city.'

The communications officer in Keefe's helicopter nodded and immediately got on the horn. 'We need an upper-level air transport to Abu Ad Duhur Airport in Syria, latitude 35:43:55 north, longitude 37:06:18 east.'

The Army Rangers mixed in the group were already marching to a helicopter that had its rotors on so that they could be flown into Abu Ad Duhur, about forty miles from their current location. After watching them lift off, Keefe stood looking around at the agents and troops around him awkwardly, suddenly feeling incredibly useless.


	33. Early Morning, 17 May 2006

A/N: Two chapters after this one, and then I'll start posting the story that no one's ever read before, not even Chocobo Goddess! And wheee, there was a scabies outbreak at work this week, the weeks been soooo fun bleurgh.

---

Everyone in the dusty room had fallen asleep soon after it grew completely dark and the windows became black rather than the grimy grey of the late afternoon. Hediyeh was on top of Anoo, her mother's arms around her as they slept on one of the dusty couches. The girl had been reluctant to fall asleep, not knowing where her father was, but Anoo quelled her by singing an Afghani lullaby that Jackson remembered hearing once before when he held a Persian businessman hostage during his early years in the organisation. He'd been allowed a phone call and chose to sing his children to sleep. Once the call ended, he'd been shot by one of the men working with Jackson. As far as he could remember, that was the first night he'd smoked a cigarette.

With Anoo's soft voice purring the song in the background, Jackson had laid the cushions from both the couch and a couple of chairs onto the floor, creating a makeshift bed for himself and his wife. She'd lied down, her dark curls fanned under her head, dropping off to sleep soon after Hediyeh. Curling up to her, Jackson fell asleep with his nose nuzzled to the side of her face, thankful that she could get some sleep after getting some relief from her contractions with plenty of water and walking.

When the doors flew open and light poured into room, the two terror-trained adults in the room immediately sat up and tried to hide their protectees, but all of the attention was focused directly on Jackson. A group of guards came over and pulled him away from his wife, snarling and scratching. Lisa tried to yank him back from him, but all it got her was a kick to the chest by one of the guards. They carried him from the room and slammed the doors behind them, Jackson's yells gradually fading as they walked away. Lisa lied curled up where she'd fallen when she was kicked, and soon Anoo and Hediyeh were at her side.

'Come on, get up,' Anoo murmured, slipping an arm under Lisa's shoulders and sitting her up. Hediyeh pulled at a hand as though she were helping. 'Let's take a walk around the room, okay?'

Lisa took a couple of deep breaths and got to her feet with Anoo's help. Just as they stood, there was an explosion down the street from the building and Hediyeh buried her face into Lisa's back. Reaching down numbly, she ran her fingers through the girl's hair to comfort her as she ran her hand over her own stomach, feeling that the baby had moved noticeably downward since the contractions had started the afternoon before. Anoo placed a hand squarely on Lisa's back and forced her to move forward.

'Don't worry, they'll bring him back,' she cooed into Lisa's ear as she rubbed the younger woman's back. 'All you can do now is just stay calm, all right?'

Nodding, Lisa allowed Anoo to guide her around the room and through another contraction. The face on Jackson's watch told her that it had been ten minutes since her last contraction, and she guessed that she'd had maybe twenty of them during the four or five hours of sleep that she got next to her husband. After a few good walks around the room, some water, and an MRE, Anoo led Lisa back to the makeshift bed on the floor and instructed Hediyeh to sleep next to Lisa as she stood guard. In the darkness, Anoo made her way back to the couch and sat singing Persian and Arabic lullabies until the girl had gone limp in Lisa's arms. Lisa too fell into a light sleep punctured by four contractions before the doors opened again and Jackson was thrown in.

He was breathing heavily but didn't move from where he'd landed after the doors slammed behind him. As Lisa left Hediyeh and crawled to him, she could see that it had been only fifteen minutes since she fell to sleep, and perhaps thirty since Jackson had been taken. Her hands splashed in blood as she reached him and she gasped, turning him over.

'Jackson,' she murmured quickly, feeling his chest for gunshots before realising from his ragged breathing that it was his nose that was bleeding so horribly. 'Jackson...'

She felt his face carefully. His nose felt broken, his lip was split, and most of the face was swollen. Anoo made her way to them, tearing the cloth of her overcoat into strips to dab at Jackson's injuries.

'We can't see you, so you need to tell us where you're hurt,' Anoo said as she squeezed just under the bridge of his nose to stop the bleeding.

'Everywhere,' he said nasally, his voice resounding against Anoo's fingers.

'Why did they take you? What was that explosion?' Lisa asked, pushing his hair back from his face carefully as Hediyeh came up behind her and put her arms around Lisa's neck.

'They found a tracking device on the car and thought that I planted it,' he said, laughing a little, which made more blood spurt onto his face. Anoo quickly wiped it away. 'They were just getting rid of it extremely dramatically.'

'Did you see Imad or the Ayatollah?' Anoo asked.

'No, they weren't with me,' Jackson replied, and there was something in his tone that warned her not to ask anything more about them.

'How did they just now find it?' asked his wife, almost to herself.

'Remember that little town we went through? They apparently left someone there,' Jackson said, coughing a little. 'The American troops questioned the townspeople about this place, so they knew there had to be some tracking device somewhere.'

Lisa's spirits rose. 'The troops are coming to save us?'

He laughed. 'Yeah, I guess; unless of course they kill us first.'

Jackson immediately wanted to take the last part back. Lisa's hand paused on his head and Anoo stopped tending his wounds. Although Hediyeh didn't understand what he said, the sudden silence made her start crying softly into Lisa's hair. Pulling her hands out of Jackson's hair, Lisa turned and stood, taking Hediyeh and walking away from Anoo and Jackson. Across the room, she stood next to a window shushing the girl and pressing her tightly to her side as another contraction came, three minutes on the heel of the last. Startled by the intensity of this one, Lisa's hand fell away from Hediyeh as she leaned against the windowsill, breathing heavily and holding the bottom of her stomach.

'Leese?' Jackson's panicked voice came from across the room as he heard the commotion, and he coughed again. 'Leese, what's wrong?'

'She's on the floor!' came Hediyeh's voice through the darkness. 'Madar, what do I do?'

'Madar's coming, dearest Hediyeh,' Anoo replied, leaving Jackson and walking over to the window. Jackson could hear a grunt as she picked up Lisa and carried her back to the bed, her daughter following after her.

'Leese...' Jackson repeated, feeling around and crawling to the dusty cushions.

'You're doing great, Lisa, just keep concentrating...'

'What's going on?' begged Jackson, finding his wife's hair and reaching up to her clammy forehead.

'It's the middle phase of labour,' said Anoo, grasping Lisa's hand. 'It will be at most four or five hours until the baby is born.'


	34. Morning, 17 May 2006

A/N: So I worked a fourteen hour shift yesterday in the long-term care unit. At the beginning of the day, some old guy fell asleep in his motorised wheelchair and had his hand on the joystick control thing, so he was going around in circles, fast asleep, for about ten minutes as we all went about our business. It was effin' awesome.

---

It was just before dawn when the assault team regrouped, this time at the Abu Ad Duhur Airport that the Rangers had left from hours earlier. The reports from the men of those Special Forces were scattered and terse, but all that mattered was that they knew that nothing had been done to compromise the lives of the hostages. The leaders knew that there had been an explosion, but it had nothing to do with the building where the hostages were; at one point in the early morning, the Rangers watched Jackson Rippner be interrogated through a partially covered window. Although he was bleeding badly from facial injuries and had been hit a number of times, because he still seemed to be conscious, they opted to hold off aid for the safety of the majority.

Two additional MedEvac helicopters had been added to the aviation grouping and the closest large hospital in Hamah was informed that they should expect two to six emergency patients within the next couple of hours, one of whom would most certainly be about to give birth if she hadn't already. A surgery team was standing by in the case that a caesarean section was required. The nurses and physicians in the air ambulances were preparing themselves and their work areas for everything, whether it be something as gory as performing an emergency c-section to save the baby in the event of Lisa's death or something as run-of-the-mill as tending to a gunshot wound.

There was great tension as they all started breaking into teams. A large team was staying at the airport, which was now considered the base of operations, and a small group was being sent out with the medical personnel to meet with the Rangers. The Rangers, of course, were the primary assault team in case the negotiators failed to convince the hostage-takers to release the captives; they had placed themselves in strategic positions around the town under the cover of night and were ready to move when the word was given.

At 0600 exactly, three helicopters lifted out of the airport. The two MedEvac flanked a single armed military helicopter carrying CIA negotiators and interpreters, but more familiar faces such as Keefe had been left behind at Abu Ad Duhur, believed to be more of a liability than as help in negotiations. They headed straight down to the southeast, vaguely following an unpaved road before diverting more eastward at 0613. Only four minutes later, the MedEvac choppers hovered on the ruined outskirts of the town as the negotiator-bearing helicopter moved towards the still-smoking building. Once they passed through the smoke, there was a flurry of motion and gunshots.

'Hold your fire!' came the smooth voice of the lead negotiator, speaking in Arabic. She repeated the command in Persian before continuing. 'We are here to negotiate the release of the captives!'

The firing stopped and the guards waited as the doors of the building opened and Reza's hand appeared, holding a loudspeaker. 'The time for negotiation is passed.'

The agents in the helicopter looked at each other tensely, but before they could say anything else, the guards filed back into the building and the doors closed. A voice came over the satellite connection to the Rangers.

'We're watching the situation from the ground. Negotiators, move back and prepare for landing with MedEvac. Over.'

The lead negotiator wasn't about to give up so easily, however. 'Reza, we can offer you immunity from prosecution, immunity for yourself and your men! We just want the safe release of the American prisoners!'

She was answered by a window opening slightly and yelling from the Rangers over the communication link. 'Get out of there! They have an RPG!'

The pilot immediately began changing the pitch of the rotors as the window opened more to reveal the end of the RPG-7. There was a puff of smoke as the warhead propelled forward from the launcher and the agents in the helicopter screamed as the pilot turned them as sharply as possible and they were tossed about. The warhead missed the helicopter but hit a building a little behind it on its arc down. The resulting explosion shook the aircraft and generated a moderate amount of shrapnel that broke some of the remaining windows, including one of the windows in the building where the Rippners were being held.

---

It was 5:50 in the morning when Lisa's water broke, nearly an hour and a half after the really strong contractions started. Up until that point, she'd been very quiet, but only ten minutes after the amniotic sac broke, she was trembling and throwing up bile as Jackson tried to keep her still, pressing her back against him as he brushed a hand on her thigh and used the other to hold her head to his shoulder. She had stopped responding to things around her with words, but when told to move by Anoo, she obeyed. With each contraction, she would grab and squeeze Jackson's leg as she pushed her feet along the cushions, curling her toes in pain as she screamed.

After the second scream, the doors unlocked and Reza burst in with a couple of his guards. There was a general feeling of victory for the terrorist as he smirked at the motley group: Jackson's face was still oozing with blood, one eye swollen closed; Lisa had her head thrown back against her husband's shoulder, breathing heavily and looking absolutely drained; Anoo was glaring at the man as she looked up from checking Lisa's dilation with her daughter standing behind her. He laughed for only a moment before the dull thumping of helicopters came even closer, eventually close enough to shake dust out of the ceiling. There were loud gunshots that covered Lisa's next scream, and Hediyeh came around to dab at Lisa's forehead with a wet cloth as the announcement from the negotiator drifted to their ears.

'It is amazing how one little thing can change your entire circumstance,' he said before turning, leaving his guards pointing guns at them. At his announcement to the agent, Jackson wrapped his arms around his wife and looked darkly at the guards with his good eye.

'Let us move to the basement,' said Reza when he returned, ignoring the further announcements from the negotiator before giving a curt nod to the guards, which sent them after the hostages inside the room.

Anoo had just taken Lisa into her arms to carry her down for Jackson when there was the sound of a warhead being fired. Hediyeh found her way to Jackson's arms before the explosion shook the entire house, nearly knocking Anoo and Lisa down and shattering the window next to them. Turning, Anoo avoided most of the glass, and within just a moment, the guards were shoving them harshly out of the room. Hediyeh, screaming, was pulled from Jackson and right before he was dragged out also, he noticed a person perched atop the building across the street wearing desert fatigues.

Out in the main corridor, one of the guards was yanking Anoo about by her plait, and soon she disappeared down a flight of stairs that the guards, Hediyeh, and Jackson followed down. Just as the door closed and was locked by the rear guard, there was another explosion and they could hear chunks of the door and front wall being blown across the foyer. Jackson paused to listen and was subsequently shoved down the last few stairs, landing splayed across the dirt floor before being pulled up harshly by a guard who threw him against the wall next to his wife and Hediyeh.

For a moment, Jackson wondered where Anoo had gone, and after only a moment, he got his answer. There was a heart-wrenching yell from the corner and he snapped his vision over to see Anoo on her knees, her hands shaking as she suspended them around her husband's body, which was next to Fadlallah's. Tears poured silently down her face as she took a couple of gasping breaths before pressing her face down upon his bloody chest, grabbing at the damp fabric of his clothing as she shuddered with sobs. Hediyeh cried softly beside him and he took her into his arms before taking Lisa's hand into his own, squeezing it as she had another contraction, her sobs adding to Anoo's.

At Lisa's cry, Anoo snapped up and looked at Reza, her eyes burning from her blood-covered face as she kept her grip on her husband's clothing. 'You _monster_. You monster!'

Reza stuck out his bottom lip, pulling a handgun from a holster at his hip. 'You hurt me, Anoo.'

She looked back down at her husband, biting her lip before bending down and kissing him l

lightly then getting to her feet and rubbing her eyes with bloody hands. With a sniffle, she turned her head quickly and looked at him with narrowed eyes. Above them, there started to be the march of troops' feet and they moved to the room where the hostages had been held. Reza looked up, and in the moment that he wasn't paying attention, Anoo launched herself at him. He was fast, however, and right before she managed to jump on top of him, he shot her in the stomach.

Hediyeh screamed as her mother hit the ground in front of Reza, struggling against Jackson's arms to try to get to her. Reza immediately turned, pointing his gun at the girl, which made her cover her mouth with her hands as tears ran down her face. Jackson dropped his chin to the top of the girl's head as he scooted closer to his wife, pulling her up against him. The Rangers obviously heard Hediyeh, however, and within moments, there was the sound of someone trying the door at the top of the stairs. There was a fleeting moment of happiness for the captives before a fire fight started above them.

'You did not think I would make it that easy, did you?' Reza hissed, rolling Anoo over with his foot and examining her bloody face coldly. 'A good number of my guards are still upstairs.'

Breathing hard, Anoo glared at him, reaching up her arms with curled fingers. Without a second thought, Reza pointed his gun directly between her eyes and pulled the trigger, not even flinching as her blood splattered all over him. Her arms dropped as her head rolled to the side, facing the three remaining captives. Lisa backed up more against Jackson, raising her arm to press a hand to Hediyeh's arm weakly. With her wrist on his arm, Jackson could feel that she was shaking even more than she had been in the upstairs room, and looking at her face, he could see that his wife was trying her best not to scream at a contraction. Assuring that Anoo was dead by kicking her, Reza took a few steps closer to them and smiled, licking some of the woman's blood off of his lips.

'Well, now that we have that done...'

He held his gun up again and aimed it at Lisa. Immediately, he squeezed the trigger, and although Jackson moved quickly to throw his arm over Lisa, the bullet just nicked his arm and hit her high on her left shoulder. Hediyeh crawled out of Jackson's lap and threw her arms around Lisa, murmuring to her as she pressed on the bloody spot that was expanding over her dress. Lisa grabbed at Jackson's shirt as he leaned in front of her, his back to Reza, her eyes wide in pain, but he was comforted by the location of the gunshot wound.

'Jackson,' she said breathily, the only thing she'd said in the last couple of hours. 'I... I have to push.'

'No, no, no,' he replied, pressing a hand to her stomach. 'Please, just wait, please...'

There was a loud gunshot and fragments of the basement door scattered down the stairs before it was kicked in by one of the Army Rangers. Reza motioned to a couple of his guards and they stepped forward hesitantly, aiming their guns at the huddled captives as the Rangers started coming down the stairs. As the Rangers came into sight, they quickly raised their guns and the first spoke.

'Put down your weapons!'

The guards on either side dropped their guns, and Jackson looked back at them as Lisa squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her jaw. He was startled to see that Reza still had his gun aimed at them and was moving back around to Anoo's body, still staring at his captives.

'I said put down your weapon!' the Ranger said, aiming his gun at Reza.

The terrorist moved under the stairs, out of the sight of the Ranger, and before the man could come around to aim again, there were three gunshots in quick succession and the Rangers stomped completely down the stairs, the leader and one of the men after him cornering Reza as the rest split themselves between the five Reza guards down in the basement and the three hostages. Lisa was taking harsh, ragged breaths under Jackson as a man with a walkie-talkie called in the MedEvacs from the outskirts of town. There was loud thumping as they landed in front of the building, and Jackson looked into the faces of the Rangers as he sat down next to Lisa. Turning, he looked at her and was startled as Hediyeh was pressing onto Lisa's side.

'She's bleeding,' the little girl said softly, taking her hand away from Lisa's right ribs, her hands covered in blood.

'She... she's been shot!' Jackson said frantically, pushing Hediyeh away as he slipped his hand behind Lisa's head and applied pressure to the wound.

Hediyeh backed into one of the Rangers and he picked her up, carrying her out of the room as her eyes stayed frozen to her dead mother. Lisa screamed over the sound of the helicopters and people running about above their heads as she pushed, making the blood from her shoulder and ribs pour out faster. Jackson was panicking, not knowing whether to encourage or discourage her in the birthing process, but soon he was pulled away from her by an Army Ranger, who held him as the medics surrounded Lisa, trying to quell her cries as they examined her. A Ranger next to Jackson was gestured to and went over to pick up Lisa, cradling her carefully in his arms, and Jackson could suddenly see that she'd also been shot in the right thigh.

'Clear a path!' screamed one of the medics as he ran up the stairs, followed by the Rangers holding Lisa and leading Jackson.

Over the Ranger's shoulder, Jackson could see Lisa's face as it contorted in pain and she screamed harder, tears pouring down her cheeks. He struggled against the man's grip to get to her and comfort her, but the man kept a good hold as they came into the foyer, weaving through the casualties of the small battle on the main floor of the house. Dust billowed around, disturbed by the air pushed down to the ground by the rotors of the choppers, but as far as he could tell, Lisa didn't even notice. They reached one of the helicopters and Lisa was handed up delicately to the battle physicians, and just as she disappeared from his vision, Jackson was helped up into the vehicle and the doors closed before they lifted off.

'The baby's already crowning,' said one of the nurses as a group of the medics worked on stopping the bleeding. 'We can't put this off without threatening the baby's life.'

Lisa screamed as a physician fished the bullet out of her side and began packing gauze in the wound. A nurse took his place by Lisa's side, applying pressure with a handful of gauze. The woman across from her had already disinfected and stitched Lisa's shoulder injury, but was pressing on it regardless as Lisa squeezed her lips together tightly and pushed, which increased the amount of blood coming out of her side.

'Good job, Lisa,' said one of the nurses who was holding Lisa's legs so that she'd have something to bear against, and additionally applying pressure to the gunshot wound on her thigh, furrowing her brow as she felt that Lisa's leg might be broken. 'Soon you'll have a little baby boy.'

Pursued by the nurse who was tending his wounds, Jackson walked over on unsteady legs to take Lisa's hand, reaching through the nurses to hold the side of her face as she sobbed. She pressed her cheek into his palm as he brushed away tears with his thumb, giving her a look of pity and support that she didn't see as she closed her eyes and pushed, biting her lip until she screamed terribly again and then laid panting with her eyebrows raised.

'Bulb syringe,' said the doctor, taking it from a nurse and dropping it out of Jackson's vision. When he could see it again, he was squirting mucous out of the syringe. 'Come on, Lisa, you've already delivered the head, you've already done the hardest part.'

'Dizzy,' murmured Lisa, still breathing heavily.

'I know,' Jackson said, turning his attention back to her, tears burning his eyes. 'I know you're tired and dizzy, Leese, but you're almost finished.'

Her head rolled out of his hand and he panicked for a moment before she pressed it to her chest and pushed with all of her energy for a long minute. The medical personnel flurried about and when Jackson looked away from Lisa, he caught the first glimpse of their son as the doctor held him up, quickly wrapping him lightly in a receiving blanket. The doctor stuck his forefinger into the baby's mouth to clear out any remaining mucous and then put him on the level of the birth canal. Even over the thudding of the rotors, Jackson and Lisa could hear their son's first squall.

'Congratulations,' said the doctor quickly, and Jackson glanced at his bloody watch on his wife's wrist: 6:43.

The doctor continued suctioning the baby's nostrils and mouth as he cried, and Jackson tried to look down at him before Lisa squeezed lightly at his hand. Her breathing was slowing down, and before Jackson could respond to her, he'd been pushed out of the way by the medical personnel and led to the other stretcher, where one of the Rangers stood by him, watching Lisa with concern. Jackson had no idea what was going on, but was too worried to fight with the medics about it. After a couple of minutes, one of the nurses took the baby to his stretcher and swaddled him in a thick blanket before looking at Jackson.

'Don't give him to me, give him to Lisa,' Jackson said with wide eyes.

She gave him a sad look. 'Do you know how to hold a baby, Mr Rippner?'

Turning his head, he looked over at Lisa's stretcher again, but she was completely covered by medics. 'What's happening? Why can't she hold him?'

'Please, Mr Rippner,' said the nurse, and Jackson was startled as she choked up a little, taking the baby and pressing him against the centre of Jackson's chest. 'Wrap your arms around him and make sure to keep him warm.'

Numbly, Jackson slipped his arm under the baby's bottom, supporting him in his hand as he pressed the other hand to his son's back, his thumb and forefinger holding the back of his head. The nurse picked up a small, knit cap from the stretcher and slipped it onto the baby's head before going back to Lisa. Through the cockpit windshield, Jackson could see the outskirts of Hamah as they began to descend towards the hospital. He felt their son yawn against his chest and looked down at him blankly, not exactly sure what to do with him.

The helicopter jarred as they landed on the heliport of the Khan el Qusayr, and in an instant, the doors were thrown open and the medics began pulling Lisa's stretcher out onto the roof. Jackson stood and walked over but was held back until Lisa was already being wheeled away, her eyes closed and nurse respirating her with a hand pump.


	35. 28 May 2006

A/N: Last chapter! I'll start posting Toccata and Fugue within a few days!

---

Eleven days later, Jackson sat in a hospital bed at Landstuhl Medical Centre near the Ramstein Air Force Base in the southwest of Germany, brushing the top of the splint over his nose with aggravation as his nose itched. The batteries in the remote had gone dead earlier in the day, so he was stuck watching BBC News which unfortunately repeated the same loop of programmes all day, and as of recently were all about the aftermath of the Syrian crisis. At first, they just had little blurbs, but as the media was able to get into the town where they'd been held, more and more time became devoted to the story. There were pictures of the building where they'd stayed; video of the basement where Anoo, Imad and Fadlallah had been murdered; and eventually, he was terrified to see, pictures of their infant son. Reporters had been begging to be let in to interview Jackson about the entire thing, but because he was on a military base, there were strict rules regarding who could go in and out.

He was about to try to throw something at the television to make it turn off when the door opened and a nurse walked in holding the baby. Hediyeh was walking next to her, looking sullen, but once she ran over to Jackson's bed and was lifted up by him, she relaxed and smiled a little at the television. The nurse came over and laid the baby in the bassinet next to the bed, looking at Jackson as he put an arm around the little girl and stared the television.

'The batteries died?' the nurse asked with a bit of humour in her voice. Jackson responded by handing her the remote, and she left without another word.

'She could have changed the channel,' said Hediyeh dryly, playing with one of Jackson's fingers as she spoke in Arabic. 'This was on this morning.'

'She'll be back soon,' said Jackson with a little laugh—two weeks of knowing him and she was already dripping with righteous sarcasm—watching as the little girl spun around his wedding band. 'How was your check-up?'

'Good,' she murmured, turning to lay her head on his stomach. 'The doctor says I'm very healthy, and so is Jonathan.'

'Well, I guess it won't be any problem then when we go to America, hm?'

Hediyeh shook her head and turned as the door opened again, hoping that the nurse had returned with the fixed remote. Instead, Joe Reisert walked in looking exhausted and made a bee-line for his grandson's bassinet, wasting no time picking him up and going over to Jackson's bed. Before sitting down, he went to Jackson's feet and turned off the television, which made both occupants of the bed sigh gleefully.

'How are you, Jackson?' the older man asked, looking down at his grandson rather than his son-in-law. Basically, it was like looking at the same person because of the stunning blue eyes that each possessed.

'I'm getting better,' he said shortly. 'Adjusting.'

'I think we all are,' said Joe, smiling a bit as Jonathan yawned. 'It's a big change.'

The small girl in bed with Jackson curled closer to him and in response Jackson raised the sheets so that she could snuggle under them with him. Hediyeh edged up until she had her head on his sternum and lied listening to him breathing and his heart beating under the rumbling of his voice as he continued talking to Joe. Although she had no idea what they were talking about, she could tell by Jackson's tone that he was upset about something, but then again, they had all been upset since getting to Landstadt. There was a lot of paperwork: birth and death certificates, adoption papers, passport applications, et cetera. She was convinced that Jackson's hand was going to be stained with ink forever.

'How soon will they have the little girl's passport?' asked Joe, looking down at Hediyeh.

'They can't issue it here, but Keefe's been working with the Consulate General in Frankfurt am Main,' Jackson replied, and Hediyeh smiled a little as his stomach gurgled. 'They'll probably have it in the next couple of days, and then we can start solidifying our travel plans to go back to Miami.'

'Jonathan can fly?'

Jackson nodded. 'The doctors said to just make sure that he drinks from a bottle during take off and landing to equalise the pressure in his ears.'

'Ah,' Joe said simply before turning to look at the person who was walking through the door.

'The nurse said to bring this in to you,' Carol said, holding up the remote and bringing it over to them.

'Hey, Hediyeh, look,' Jackson said as he took the remote. 'Want to find something fun to watch?'

She shook her head slowly against his chest, so he just dropped it to the sheets beside them.

'Is she all right?' asked Carol with concern, reaching out to rub the girl's back.

'She was really close to her mom,' Jackson said in a strained voice as he looked down at her. 'She goes through a lot of emotions every day because she's happy to be going with everyone back to America but at the same time she misses her parents, her home, everything.'

'Poor thing,' murmured Carol, sitting down in the chair next to Joe and taking their grandson from her ex-husband's arms, cuddling him. 'It'll get better, little one. We'll take good care of you. After all, all of the people in this room have lost their moms, and your new daddy even lost his when he was young.'

Jackson shifted oddly in his bed before interpreting for Hediyeh; no one had ever bothered to tell his parents-in-law that he was in fact the person who _caused_ his parents' deaths, and he wasn't about to tell them now. When he finished interpreting, Hediyeh sat up and slipped out of the bed, walking over and reaching to Joe, who picked her up and put her in his lap. They all sat in silence for a little bit, Jackson twisting his wedding band, Carol kissing her infant grandson's forehead, and Joe holding his adopted granddaughter tightly.

'Hediyeh,' said Carol, tripping over the girl's name. She perked up and looked at Carol, who gestured for her to come to her.

Carol handed Jonathan back to Joe as Hediyeh slipped out of his lap and walked to her. The woman spun her finger in a circle to get the girl to turn around before taking a hair-tie out of her own hair and running her fingers through the girl's long waves.

'I bet your Mama used to braid your hair, didn't she?' Carol asked lightly as she started to pull the girl's hair back and Jackson interpreted.

'And her new Mama will too,' said a sleepy voice from the door, and Joe stood.

'Honey,' Joe said with a wide smile as he walked over to Lisa, who was being pushed into the room in a wheelchair by a nurse, her leg stretched out in front of her, immobilised but not in a cast. 'Feel better after a good bath?'

Lisa nodded with a yawn as she watched her husband slip out of the hospital bed and stand next to it. 'Trying to take over my spot?'

'Just feeling a bit lazy,' he replied with a smile as he helped the nurse lift her out of the wheelchair and back into the bed. 'I thought you'd be gone for thirty minutes and it ended up being three hours. I had to watch the same news broadcast twice on BBC News.'

'Would you like some cheese with that whine?' she asked snarkily as she pulled the sheets up and nuzzled into her pillow before reaching out to her father. 'Baby.'

Joe brought over his grandson and placed him in Lisa's outstretched arms. After eleven days, only six of which had been spent in his mother's care after she awoke from a short coma, he was no fool and knew exactly what was up. Before she could even untie her gown, he was trying to suckle at her breast through the blue cotton fabric of her scrubs top, so laughing, Jackson stuck his finger between his wife's breast and his son's mouth until Lisa could expose a nipple for him. He frowned inwardly at the red, aggravated skin on her shoulder where she'd been shot by Reza.

'Jonathan Noah Rippner,' grumbled Lisa as Jackson pulled his finger out of the baby's mouth. He attached himself hungrily to Lisa, a move which made her bite her lip a little and shut an eye, but after a moment, she became more accustomed to it and looked around at the other people in the room. 'Have Hediyeh's papers come yet?'

Shaking his head, Jackson sat beside her on the bed. 'Keefe promises them within the next couple of days, and as soon as we get them, we'll be on the next flight to Miami out of Frankfurt am Main.'

'I'm going back to Dallas morning tomorrow, but I'm sure that you can handle everything here without me,' said Carol as she tied the bottom of Hediyeh's plait. 'Everything seems to be winding down.'

'Are they going to let me travel?' asked Lisa worriedly, looking at her husband.

He rubbed her leg fondly. 'Yes, don't worry; we're not going to leave you behind in Germany. You're never going anywhere without me ever again.'

He gave her a serious look and she started laughing. 'Is that a promise?'

'Hopefully there won't be another reason for him to steal you off into hiding,' said Joe, a bit of worry and question hiding under his voice before he scooped up his granddaughter and held her upside down by her ankles, which made her laugh loudly.

'There shouldn't be,' Jackson said, placing a hand on their son's back as he grinned at Joe and Hediyeh. 'I only screwed up one job; all the rest were just peachy.'

---

'Welcome aboard Fresh Air flight 462 service to Miami. We will be departing at 9:50 and expect a flight time of about nine hours and forty minutes. The current time at our destination is 3:35 AM. _Wilkommen bei Fresh Air Fluges 492..._'

Aboard the massive Boeing 747, passengers on the main deck were working on storing all of their carry-on luggage in preparation for flight, but on the upper deck, all of the seventeen first-class passengers were already situated, the youngest one happily gurgling on his mother's chest. A flight attendant prowled down the first-class section with a notebook in hand asking every passenger what he wanted to drink. When she got to 81C, however, she paused, looking with slight question at 81A, a stout businessman, before dropping to her knees.

'Well, hello honey. Are you travelling all by yourself?' she asked the girl, who was colouring messily in a _Let's Learn English!_ colouring book.

The girl glanced up at her with slight hesitation before looking past her to the people across the row. 'Jackson-_baba_?'

The flight attendant heard the person behind her turn around. '_Aish_?'

She stood and turned to look at the man who was speaking. He had dark hair that was vaguely lopsided, a shorter area over a mean red scar; his face was relatively scarred also, but what she noticed about him were his stunning blue eyes and the fact that he had a baby bottle stuck into his suit jacket pocket. Beside him, a woman wearing a ring matching his was sitting with her legs propped on the footrest, a tiny infant curled against her chest, oblivious to anything going on beside her. Standing up a little straighter, she looked down at him with pinched lips.

'Hediyeh, _aish_—oh,' he said, laughing inwardly a bit with surprised eyes as he reached over to brush his hand against Lisa. 'Leese.'

Lisa looked up from the drooling baby, waiting for her husband to continue before he jerked his head to the stern-looking flight attendant. Looking up at the familiar-looking dark-haired woman, Lisa immediately snorted and put her free hand over her mouth.

'So, it seems there's been no death in the family. Does that mean the lavatory is safe?'

Jackson smiled indulgently as Lisa turned her face away to laugh. 'Well, the kids are with us this flight, so there's no time for fun.'

The flight attendant gave an indignant noise. 'Is there anything I can get for you before we take off?'

'We'll have a Moët et Chandon Brut Imperiel split,' he said, then turned to Lisa, who was still shaking with silent laughter as she looked out the window with Jonathan held to her. 'Leese, did you need another pillow or anything?'

She turned back, the humour of the moment still apparent on her face. 'No, I don't need anything.'

'Hediyeh,' Jackson said, looking around the woman's hips before speaking slowly in English. 'Do you want a drink?'

The little girl took a deep breath and then looked in the woman's eyes. 'Apple juice.'

'Apple juice,' Jackson repeated with a smile to the flight attendant, who seemed ruffled by having the familiar couple under her watch once moreÅ\she took the businessman's drink order and then walked back towards the galley with Jackson watching her the whole way.

Takeoff was uneventful, and because Jonathan was sucking at his bottle and Hediyeh had pressure-equalising earplugs in her ears, both children were able to adjust to the new altitude without much issue. Lisa was panicky for the first few minutes, but once she let the nipple of the bottle slip out of Jonathan's mouth, he was able to scream her back into submission. Sipping his champagne as he watched Hediyeh colour a page about the month of June, Jackson considered the date and nearly lost the champagne through his nose.

Lisa gave him an odd look, setting down the empty bottle on the centre console as she held Jonathan up to her shoulder and patted his back. 'What?'

'It's the eighth of June,' he said with a grin, holding the champagne flute up to her.

She raised an eyebrow. 'And...?'

'Right, you wouldn't know,' he said, pressing his lips together to stifle laughter as he handed a champagne flute to her. She supported the baby with one hand and took the liquor with another. 'I started stalking you eleven months ago to the day.'

She just stared at him as he clinked his flute to hers and then emptied the remainder of the glass in one quick swig and stood. As she sipped at hers, she watched him dig through the overhead and pull out a bottle of pills and a pair of Hediyeh's pyjamas.

'I medicate, you change?' he said, shaking the orange bottle at her.

Lisa pursed her lips, set down her glass and gestured to her leg.

'Ah, yes,' he replied before turning to Hediyeh and helping her unbuckle.

They disappeared into the lavatory and almost immediately, the stewardess noticed Jackson's missing head and came down to the aisle, turning quickly to see Lisa looking at the clouds out of the window as she held on to her sleepy baby. 'Mrs Rippner, does your daughter need her bed laid out?'

'My husband can take care of it, I think.'

The stewardess looked to the side as Jackson came out holding a pink-footy-pyjamas-clad Hediyeh's hand, obviously disgruntled by the stylistic choosings of his mother-in-law. Despite what Lisa said, the flight attendant reached over and flattened out Hediyeh's seat, smiling at the girl before pulling down pillows and a blanket from the overhead compartment. Once she finished, Jackson gave her a cold look as he lifted Hediyeh into the seat, having her stay standing as he pulled out one of the pills and snapped it neatly in half.

'Tongue,' he said, and she stuck her tongue out. He placed the tiny white pill on it. 'Swallow.'

She swallowed and then sat down, drinking the rest of her apple juice before laying down on the bed and pulling the blanket up to her chin, watching as Jackson sat down next to Lisa and took Jonathan from her so she could lay her seat down. Her Jackson-_baba_ held the tiny boy with one hand and started flipping through the in-flight magazine with the other, glancing every now and then at Hediyeh as he nuzzled his lips and nose against his son. Lisa-_maman _hadn't taken the infant back yet before Hediyeh gave into the Ambien and slipped off to sleep.

---

Hediyeh woke up for a vague instant when the stewardess put her seat upright, but she just immediately fell back asleep against the centre console with her mouth hanging open. As Jackson slept against the console in their seating area, Lisa was on baby duty, running her hand through her husband's hair as she fed Jonathan. When the wheels hit the ground in Miami, Jackson sat straight up, completely alert, and by the time they reached the gate and Lisa was collecting the things around their seats, Jackson was rubbing his neck absentmindedly.

'I don't even have a pen,' she muttered dryly as she watched him. He just gave her a dark look before standing and grabbing down their bags.

Thirty minutes later, the Rippner family, having been rushed through customs, finally made it to the claim area. Lisa hobbled on her crutches beside Jackson, who had a diaper bag crossing his chest, a wide-eyed Jonathan in a carrier in one hand, and Hediyeh's hand in the other. The next fifteen minutes were a blur as people who seemed to crawl from the woodwork attacked the party with best wishes, congratulations, gifts, et cetera. After being molested by the nineteenth person he didn't know, Jackson gave Lisa a look that spelled out to her that he blamed her exclusively for the intrusion. During the greetings, Hediyeh spent all of her time planted squarely behind Jackson's legs with her face pressed to his back.

'Okay, everyone,' Joe suddenly said. 'They've been away for three months; they're probably ready to get home.'

With a few hasty good-byes, they followed Joe, who was carrying Hediyeh, out to the curb where a couple of security guards had allowed him to park. Joe got his grandchildren settled in the back of his SUV before both men helped Lisa in and then got in the front seats. Lisa breathed a sigh of relief as they set off from the airport to their condominium.

Joe was mercifully fast at helping them into the condo with their things, and once Hediyeh squealed excitedly at the ocean and started speaking in fast Arabic to Jackson, he agreed to take her out onto the beach once she changed out of her pyjamas. Jackson got a pair of shorts and a t-shirt from the little rolling bag she'd brought from Germany, helped her change, and then watched as Joe and Hediyeh disappeared behind the elevator doors. Picking up Jonathan's carrier, he walked into the bedroom where his wife had gone five minutes earlier.

'Ah!' said Lisa happily as she laid atop the feather duvet on their bed, looking out at the ocean with a smile. 'No more desert!'

Jackson laughed lightly as he set the carrier down on the floor and bent down to pick up Jonathan carefully, pulling him to his chest as he walked across the room and laid him down in the crib that he assumed Joe had brought from his house—leave it to Joe to keep an ancient relic of his daughter's. Jonathan seemed cosy enough though, so after watching Hediyeh testing the waters under Joe's watchful eye, Jackson walked away from the window and lay down next to his wife.

'You're different,' Lisa said softly and sweetly as she turned her head to look at his profile.

He was looking at the ceiling and just smiled a bit. 'I'm just less hectic.'

Listening to the surf float on the breeze through an open window next to the bedroom, Jackson relaxed and pressed his forehead against Lisa's. There was a little intake of breath on the part of Jonathan as he stretched a bit in his crib, and if Jackson held his breath, he could hear Hediyeh and Joe as they laughed down on the beach, their new bond surpassing the linguistic differences between the two. After kissing Lisa lightly, he could feel her soft breath against his cheek as she smiled, and time seemed to just pause right in the middle of the day.

The world had become very slow, and Jackson Rippner quite liked it that way.


End file.
